Escape to Neverland
by smilee5888
Summary: A college girl dreams of flying to Neverland. When her wish is finally granted, her first encounter and greeting with that amazing boy is not exactly what she expected...rated T, just to be safe, because of some blood, but it's nothing too graphic.
1. Chapter One: Dreams and a Paper

**This is my first time posting a story on fanfiction, though I have been reading stories on this sight forever...so PLEASE go easy on me when you review...please review? Reviews are much appreciated...but no flames, please! Anyway, I'll say ahead of time that this is based on the Disney Peter Pan. That is what first made me fall in love with Peter Pan, but don't get me wrong. I've read the book twice and seen the 2003. I just really wanted to base my story on Disney, but please don't let that stop you from reading it! I know that Disney isn't exactly popular on this sight, but please give me a chance!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or Tinker Bell or any of the original story...though I sooooo wish I did!!! I do own Rebecca and any future new characters or things to come...anything you don't recognize. Anyway, ON WITH THIS!!!!!!!!**

**Chapter One: Dreams and a Paper**

"Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning...good grief, where is that star?" I squinted my eyes seemingly in vain as I balanced my bum on the windowsill. Eighteen. Eighteen years old now. Did that mean I was grown up? I shuddered at the thought. 'All right, so I am a first-year in college...I'm still a child!' I thought insistently. "I had better still be a child. I mean, being eighteen only means I can buy cigarettes and porn and vote. It's not like I have kids or pay bills yet. Lovely, I'm thinking out loud."

Shaking my head, I pried my eyes away from the night sky and went over to my ever-growing collection of Peter Pan books from various places and people, but mostly bought off of the Internet. I was going to, as weird as it was, read one out loud to...okay, so I hoped that Peter Pan himself was listening outside my window. I mean, I had a pretty big flat roof extending from my window, which would make a great spot for him to sit and relax with Tinker Bell and listen to me read. I gathered my knitted blanket, the one I'd had since I was a baby, the one that looked like a ball of threads, some knitted and some knotted together. But to me, this blanket was a beautiful and prized possession. I also took my newest knitted blanket made by my great aunt, the same woman who had made my first blanket, positioned the two on my bed, grabbed the Disney book, Peter Pan and Captain Hook, and flipped it open. I felt like I was five years old again, with an audience of two blankets, but I was alone and having fun.

Tonight, instead of lying down, I decided to remain standing and act out the story. I looked at my waiting blankets, and then at the numerous Disney Peter Pan pictures I had printed from the Internet over time. They covered the back of the door to my room and the front of my closet door. Feeling a mischievous look creep into my face, inspired by those pictures, my eyes became sinister beneath my brows and my mouth spread into a toothy menacing smile. I still believed in Peter Pan, fairies, and Neverland, and of course magic. Always had, always would, and I sincerely hoped that Peter was hiding himself outside my window listening and watching me, as I was about to put on quite a show.

I opened my door and glanced down the hall. Darkness. There was no noise coming from the playroom downstairs; my mother and brother and sister were out at some swimming event. I hurried down anyway to turn the lights off. For some reason, I did not want any lights on except for the ones in my room. That done, I scurried back up to my room and clanged the door shut. I raced excitedly to my closet. Not only would I put on a performance, but I would also dress up, and as Peter Pan! I got out my Halloween costume, which consisted of a collared green tunic and a matching green hat with a red feather. As for pants, I just used my blue and white plaid pajama pants, and navy blue slippers for shoes. I transformed myself into my hero. My hair was tucked up and under my cap and I wore a brown belt around my waist with a cheap plastic sword. I wished it was a dagger, but I made do with what I had. Ready now, I looked at the book and giggled to myself. I picked it up and read it out loud, a bit quickly because I was anxious to start my pretending.

After finishing the book, I smacked it shut and tossed it over to my pile of Peter Pan books. Whispering, "Peter, I hope you're watching me," I gripped my sword and whisked it out. I looked at my audience, excited energy pumping in my veins. "Did you know there was and still is a boy named Peter Pan who never grows up?" I asked in a British accent. My thoughts got carried away. 'Oh, how I want that accent to be natural! Some day I shall go to London and settle there and obtain a natural British accent, and then I'll write stories and novels and perform in musical theatre...hold it, I'm supposed to be performing now!' I continued to talk to my blankets. I knew I looked weird, worse than weird, like a fool, but like I said, I was having fun by myself.

"Peter could also fly! Can you imagine that? Flying? Soaring gay and carefree through the air! His fairy friend, Tinker Bell is always by his side and they play together. Peter and Tink live in a far away place called Neverland. It is an island in a star, the second star to the right and straight on 'til morning. And Peter is the captain of the Lost Boys, little boys who fell out of their prams as babies and who were brought to Neverland from Kensington Gardens. I am not making this up! It is all true! Peter even has an arch nemesis, the terrible and infamous Captain James Hook. Once, in a fair fight, Peter cut off Hook's hand, and now a hook sits where his hand used to be. He uses his hook to intimidate and attack those around him, but Peter is not scared of him. No, Peter is too brave for that! He actually enjoys fighting with the captain. It is rather fun for him!"

Here, I attempted to demonstrate that grand fight. I set into the on guard position, legs bent and feet perpendicular, left arm out in back, right arm holding my plastic sword. I was ready to lunge, and I did, crying, "Take THAT and THAT!" to an invisible Captain Hook. I parried his return attacks. "You see how it is done, do you not?" I asked my audience as I played out my own version of the battle, balancing only certain spots on the carpet under my feet because I saw it replaced by rocks in the midst of water. I made an exaggerated gasp as Hook sliced at my side, just missing me. I only hoped that my audience was seeing this invisible Hook as I was.

As he tried to put a gash in me, I leaned slightly to the side, just out of the way of his sword, and then took my chance and lunged, swiping my sword down upon his wrist. An ear-shattering scream followed from him as his bloody hand fell to the ground and he clutched his wrist, seeping with blood. Perhaps I should have been grossed out, but instead I snickered and picked up his hand. And then there was a growl behind me. I whipped around to see a giant mossy-green crocodile in the surrounding water. I got another malicious grin as I tossed the hand to the crocodile, and it gulped up the hand in a second, licking its chops in delight.

I turned back to Hook, who was staring at me, wide-eyed with shock and fury. He looked at the crocodile and screamed again as the beast crept toward him. He turned and fled, crying, "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, PAN! I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE! SMEEEE!!!!!" His first mate threw a clock at the crocodile, trying to fend it off, but the crocodile swallowed the clock and began to tick from inside. I sat on the rock under me, leaned back, and laughed. A moment later, I was on my feet again, beating my chest and crowing in triumph! Ring! I jumped at least a foot off the floor when I heard my cell phone ring. There I was, back in my room with pink carpeting and flowery blue ribbon and green vine wallpaper.

"Wow," I whispered. "It was all so...real. And amaz-" Ring! The phone went off again and I looked at it, wanting to tear it apart and hammer it to death for bringing me out of my fantastically real fantasy. But I dragged myself over to it and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Rebecca?"

"Hi, mom. Ca va?"

"Huh?"

"It's French. What's up?"

"Oh, I just wanted to check up on you. You are doing work, right?" she asked suspiciously. "I know you have a paper due tomorrow."

"Yea...about that..." Cripers, I was not good at lying to her! "Yep, I'm working."

"Working on playing Peter Pan?" She knew me too well for my own good.

"Well...I'll get back on track as soon as I get off the phone with you." Another lie. "I am doing okay with my paper, mom. Don't worry about anything."

"Becky, I know you better than that. Seriously, hon, you need to get to work on school things. I want you to promise me you will when we hang up, k?" I groaned. She also knew that I kept my promises!

"Just trust me that I will-"

"Bec! Promise! It's the only way I know you'll follow through," she insisted.

"Fine," I grumbled in annoyance. "I promise."

"All right, honey, we'll be home in a few hours...maybe more. You can never tell how long these swim meets will last."

"Yea, I know. Love you, mom."

"Love you too."

"Bye."

"Buh-bye." I clicked the phone into its cradle and sighed. Erg, I had been planning on going back to reading my Peter Pan books! Oh well. I supposed I had done enough procrastinating, and a promise was a promise, after all. I went and sat down at my desk with my laptop computer in front of me. I opened Microsoft Word and set up the page to have double-spaced text. And then I stared at the blank page. I stared at it for a good few minutes.

"Man, I really don't want to do this right now. Not ever, I guess. Okay, you promised, Rebecca. Focus...a paper on the book that you did not even read. Great. How am I going to do this?" I looked at the syllabus. Like I thought, the paper had to be four to five pages long. Ah! I grabbed the 300-plus-page book and opened to chapter three, where I had last left off. I knew that there was no way I could finish this book and still write the darn paper in time. "What time is it, anyway?" I glanced at my clock and saw that it was already 10:00 PM. There was one thing I had managed to keep from telling my mother: the paper was due by midnight. "That does count as tomorrow, technically. I'm not really keeping something from Mom," I told myself. Taking a pad of paper, I jotted down some notes. "Okay, I can compare the title to a jungle, which will hopefully give me a page." I began to type.

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**The second chapter is written and all set to go...but I want some reviews first, please!!!! And if no one is interested in me continuing to update, well...I shall know from a lack of reviews:( But I REALLY want to keep this story going so even if you didn't enjoy this chapter, please give me a chance. The second chapter is more exciting, anyway. THANK YOU:) :D**


	2. Chapter Two: Pranks?

**All right!!!!! I'm glad I have a few people who like it so far:D So, here is chapter 2...I just thought I'd mention something funny that happened last night. I was having a bad dream, but it ended with a funny scenario because one of the Lost Boys, who you will meet in a future chapter, called me on my cell phone to ask me if I wanted to come outside and play. I was baffled because there are no cell phones in Neverland! But he told me he'd made it out of wood...lol, I found it pretty funny when I awoke. Anyway, here we go...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or anyone/thing from the original story. I own Rebecca and anything else that you don't recognize.**

**Chapter Two: Pranks?**

One hour later, I had written a little over two pages of, well, junk. It really was junk, but it was getting the assignment done. I knew I would not get a good grade on this, but I would turn in something, anyway. And then I stopped and looked at my sentences. So many sentences that were just pulled from nowhere stared back at me.

"This is bad. Really, really bad. I know, but I need to keep writing it. Meh," I argued with myself. Back to typing...but typing what? Comparing immigration to a jungle? Comparing the United States of America in this book's era to a jungle? Everything had to be compared to a jungle, didn't it? And I had to make sure to include some things about the immigrants themselves...such misled people they were, in my opinion. Thinking America held the 'American Dream.' "How could anyone believe something like that, at least in this older era? America was a place that took advantage of the millions of immigrants, giving them low-wage jobs while high-class Americans got rich and were corrupt politicians on their fat bums." I shook my head and typed this out, or something similar to it, anyway, without use of the word 'bums.'

Thinking of this always made me have such soar feeling about my country for...I don't know...having a façade of a mask of the so-called 'American Dream.' I mean, immigrants expected to get rich and live happier lives without being cheated. I supposed everyone was cheated everywhere in this world in one way or another. "Kind of like meeting Jared," I thought. Jared had been my crush in eighth grade. Every girl wanted to be his girlfriend. He was hot! Jared was absolutely gorgeous! That is, on the outside. On the inside, he was a nasty, manipulative jerk.

"Perhaps I ought to incorporate something along those lines into my paper?" I thought about it. "Yes, why not? Don't judge a book by its cover, yada yada yada…the cliché stuff. I do need all the garbage I can gather to make this fill at least four pages." In it went, taking up a good 'nother couple of paragraphs. "Okay, I am at the top of page four. What time is it now?" My clock read 11:57 PM. "Darn it! I'm not going to get this in on time!" I scrambled to write some more, making it halfway down the fourth page. "Oh no! Come on, you've got to reach at least the bottom of the fourth page. Please?"

"She works too hard." I literally jumped about a foot out of my chair at the sudden masculine voice. Gasping in my jump, I spun around to face my window, nearly yelling, "Who's there?!" But my window screen was dark and blank. There was no movement outside, just silence. And a brush of wind through the trees that startled me too.

"I really don't have time for this," I told myself, but nevertheless, I cautiously tiptoed to my window. I was quite frightened by that voice, although I had to admit that it had sounded ever so familiar. Where had I heard it before? I reached the window and cupped my hands over my eyes so I would have better vision looking out into the night. I saw nearby tree branches silhouetted against the moon. I saw stars; nothing out of the ordinary, though if I had been really paying attention to them, I would have noticed that the stars seemed to be laughing as they twinkled. I found my eyes searching for the second star to the right again, and I snapped them shut. I could not let myself get caught up in that at the moment. Still a bit shaky, I said softly, "Is anyone there?" Silence answered me. I sighed and tore myself from my window, rushing back to my laptop to finish my work. The problem was, I had completely run out of steam for this darn paper. Think hard as I might, I had nothing more to write. "Drat," I spat in frustration. My brain was no longer working for this particular subject. "Ah well, I shall just have to send it in as it is and get whatever grade comes to me."

"Grades? Psh!" someone whispered. My pulse was pounding and I ran back to the window. Again, nothing.

"All right, if someone is trying to pull a prank on me, it's really not funny. I'm trying to work and this paper is already late as it is! So, please, whoever you are, stop scaring me!" I felt like a loony, like I was scolding nothing and no one, for there was no sign of anyone aside from myself. I hurried back to my desk and quickly made up a couple of concluding sentences about how immigrants had been deceived and whatnot. It would have to do. "That's it. No time to edit. Just send it now," I told myself. I went onto the Internet and located a website containing my professor's digital drop box. I loaded my paper and sent it, shaking my head and tsk-ing. "Rebecca, when will you ever learn not to procrastinate? Procrastination, as much as I love it, will be the death of me!" Another noise startled me again, but this time it was the phone ringing. I irritably picked it up and answered. It was my mother again, asking how I was doing on my paper.

"I'm all done, mom," I said with a heavy sigh.

"All right, good! You should go to bed now. You sound tired."

"Psh...I'm not promising anything this time."

"Hon, we will be getting in very late, so don't wait up for us. I do not want to come home to find you reading your Peter Pan books or watching TV, understand? You are in college now."

"Mom, you're right, I am in college now, which means I ought to be able to decide things for myself, thanks," I retorted, annoyed.

"Rebecca, you are 18 and officially a grown up-"

"MOM! Don't say that! Don't ever say that!"

"Bec, it's true. You are a grown-up whether you like it or not. The sooner you stop pretending, the better. You still believe in Peter Pan, don't you?"

"Yep. Bye, mom," I said, attempting to end the conversation. I could not believe what she was saying to me!

"Don't you dare hang up on me, Bec! You cannot believe in Peter Pan forever."

"Watch me," I challenged viscously.

"Becky, look, it was cute at first, but now this obsession is causing you to fall behind in school. There are more important things in your life now. It is time for you to forget the idea of being a child forever because it is only stopping you from becoming an adult."

"Mom, I don't _want_ to become an adult! Don't you get it?" I exclaimed. There was silence on the other end.

"You really never want to grow up?" It was as if she had never heard me say that before! And after all the times I had told her, confided in her...I was tearing up.

"Darn right I _don't_," I spat harshly. More silence.

"Rebecca, are you even done with that paper yet?"

"Yes!"

"Have you even started it?"

"Mom! I told you I finished it!"

"I don't see why I should believe you. Just look at your grades. You keep saying how you are behind. If you _are_ done with it, how good is it?"

"Huh?"

"The quality, Rebecca. Is it a good paper that will receive a good grade?"

"I...uh...sure...well..." I stuttered. Sometimes I hated myself for my inability to lie to my mother.

"It figures. All you do at college is read your Peter Pan books when you should be working."

"That's not completely true!" I almost smacked myself for saying 'completely.' I had just revealed that it was partially true…more than partially, in fact.

"Rebecca, I am taking away your books."

"WHAT?!" I screamed into the phone.

"And your blanket."

"Wh..." I could not believe my ears. My blanket? My dearest possession? My best friend? She was taking it away? "Mom, you can't..." I croaked as my eyes filled with tears when I looked at my beautiful blanket. Other kids my age might have scoffed at me and told me to get over it, but after eighteen years of life, I still clung to my blanket.

"Oh, I can, and I will. Like you said, 'watch me.' If this is the only way you will become an adult, so be it." She was not kidding. Not in the least. Not even threatening! I knew that voice. She would really do this.

"Mom, no, please...I will do better, I promise."

"Promise? _Promise_? You've _been_ promising that for ages! That is one promise I can't trust!"

"Ya know, some time it might carry through if you and dad…" I trailed off, as I could not finish that sentence. My parent's marriage troubles…it was just too painful for me. And anyway, she just interrupted me with stabbing words.

"Don't you _dare_ use our marriage troubles as an excuse for your problems with schoolwork. Don't you _dare_." The way she said 'dare' sent chills down my spine.

"PLEASE MOM!"

"I mean it, everything I've just said! GO TO BED!"

"I will go to bed, just don't take my books or my blanket," I begged, tears spilling now.

"When we get home, you had better be asleep." The line at the other end clicked. She had hung up. I dropped the phone into its cradle and screamed, "NOOO!!!" Overly dramatic? Not when your best friend and favorite books are going to be taken from you. I let my face fall into my blanket and sobbed. What was I going to do? My blanket and Peter Pan made up so much joy in my life...

Half and hour later, I had calmed a little and felt rebellious. Stupid grown-ups thought they knew everything! Defying my mother, I made myself some tea and sat in front of the television with the steaming hot tea and a bowl of ice cream, fudge swirl to be specific. I was curled up with my blanket and watching the Disney movie Peter Pan, my favorite movie of all time, when I heard it: a thump coming from my room, which happened to be located directly over the playroom. "Good grief, whoever is trying to prank me is determined," I muttered, getting up from the comfortable couch and wandering upstairs. The intruder was bothering me at the wrong moment. I was seething with fury and felt like I could kill someone.

I left the TV on so that whoever it was would think that I was still downstairs. I meant to catch the person this time. What I didn't expect was whom I would catch. Could it be my annoying, evil neighbor, Jaime? That kid was always up to something bad, such a punk, so it would make perfect sense. After all, he had put a bomb in our mailbox, exploding the mail. What a mess that had been! Everyone had been furious, but we couldn't prove that he had done it, so there was nothing we could do. So infuriating!

As silently as possible, if silence can be trifled with, I reached the top landing and literally slid along the wall to my room. I had grabbed a large kitchen knife downstairs, just in case, and now I held it out in front of me. Oh yes, I could hear some movement coming from inside my room, and that voice again.

"I don't know what it is! No, stop! Be careful with that! Don't knock it over! She might hear you!" My palm was sweating as I tightened my grip on the knife. 'Time to put my small amount of fencing training to use,' I thought. My heart was literally pounding in my chest in exhilaration and I wondered if my skin could be seen moving up and down with the pulse, should I take a close enough look. Just then, something fell, perhaps a book. "I told you _not_ to knock that over!" the voice hissed. That voice…I knew it from somewhere and the origin was on the tip of my tongue…so frustrating! Then there was the strangest beautiful sound of delicate bells and...what sparkles would sound like if you could hear them.

"What on Earth?" I whispered, and then shut up as I realized I'd said it out loud. 'Cripers, I hope he didn't hear that!' I thought. 'Okay, here's my door...' I was nearly hyperventilating, and desperately trying to calm myself down. My lamplight was still emanating from inside my room, so I would be able to see the intruder. Hopefully the person was not wearing a mask or something. 'Oh! I'm so smart!' I thought with extreme sarcasm. 'I could and should just call the police!' With that thought, I started to move away from the wall to the nearest phone, but a floorboard creaked and I stopped dead in my tracks, holding my breath.

"What was that? Did you hear it too?" the voice asked...whoever was with him. 'It's now or never,' I told myself. 'No time to call the police. I've got to handle this as I am.' Both of my hands were incredibly sweaty and my limbs trembled in fear, but in a swift movement, I yanked my door back and extended the knife threateningly.

"HANDS UP! WHO'S THERE?!" I shouted. At first I saw nothing in the dim light. The next moment I heard movement on my right and sucked in a jagged breath as I whipped around to face...my jaw dropped as I scanned my eyes from the dagger pointed at me to the person holding it. As I held my blanket to my breast, my knife slipped from my hand and bounced on the rug. I was looking at Peter Pan.

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**Chapter three is written...so review, please, and I'll update!!!!**


	3. Chapter Three: Meeting Peter Pan

**Thank you to my reviewers!!!!!!! WintersWillow, thanks for the constructive criticism. I'm taking it into consideration. I'm really happy that people seem to be enjoying it!!!!!!! Here is chapter three, which is pretty long...hope you guys like it too!!!!! Okay, here we go...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or any of the original story. I own Rebecca and the other people/things that you don't recognize. **

**Chapter Three: Meeting Peter Pan**

The amazement that filled me cannot be explained. I actually became teary eyed. There standing in front of me with his dagger aimed at my throat was the boy I had dreamt about for so many years. So many nights spent sitting at my window, wishing and willing him to come and take me away to Neverland. So many days full of daydreams of the adventures I could have with him. And here he was, his eyes wide and startled, his mouth slightly open and tight, and his extended arm strong and ready to strike me!

I had not exactly pictured this as being our first meeting; that was for sure! I had not yet closed my mouth, and the tears began to fall. I shook. I just stood there shaking and gasping small breaths in a dreamy state, I suppose. Forgetting the kitchen knife, I just stared at him. Finally, my voice squeezed out.

"Peter Pan." It was all I could say. And I continued to stand there, stock still, watching him. My arms had dropped. Suddenly, I gasped when I finally comprehended the threat that his dagger posed, and my eyes landed on it in fear. I fell. I literally fell backwards, landing with my hands out in back of me while my blanket dropped to the floor. I grabbed it and tucked it into my lap. Peter's dagger followed me and he stepped toward me. I breathed sharply through my teeth and tried to crawl backward, away from the dagger, only to thud against my bookshelf. I was trapped! He continued toward me, still threatening me with the dagger. "_Please_ don't hurt me," I blurted.

"You threatened me first," he replied.

"I'm sorry! I thought you were an intruder, my neighbor or someone like that!"

"I am not."

"Yes, I can see that. I don't want to fight you. Please! Don't hurt me," I begged, leaning into the bookshelf as much as I could as his dagger sat mere inches from my throat. I starred at it, noticing with shivers how its sharp edges flashed in the soft lamplight. I caught Peter's startled, sharp eyes and pleaded with my own eyes. Our eyes were locked for a tense moment and I hyperventilated. And then the dagger moved and I cried out, knocking my head against the bookshelf and moaning as pain exploded. Peter had only sheathed his dagger, and now he reached out and caught a large book that was falling upon my head. I still winced and shielded my face with my hands, ducking into a ball around my blanket. The book was tossed aside and a quick puff of air left his nose in a little laugh.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Don't worry, girl," he said. I peaked through my fingers and saw him down on one knee and offering me a hand up, laughing softly; I must have looked pathetically pitiful. I know it sounds silly, but my immediate thought was, 'OH! I AM GOING TO HOLD THE HAND OF PETER PAN!" And words cannot express the glee I felt as I reached up and accepted his hand. It was warm and made my own hand tingle inside. Whether that was from pixie dust or from exhilaration, I do not know, but it still felt amazing. "You just startled me is all," he explained as he pulled me to my feet. 'Should I take that as an apology, or did I deserve to be scared?' I wondered. At first we just stood facing each other in silence. He had a good couple of inches on me. I looked him over, head to toe. The green cap with the red feather, the auburn hair, the handsome face, the collared green tunic, the green...were they tights or leggings of some sort? The slipper-like shoes made of perhaps animal skin, and of course the belt and dagger. Peter Pan, flesh and blood, really was standing before me! My thoughts were interrupted with a most embarrassing question: "What are you staring at?" I blinked, shaking my head out of my trance-like state of mind.

"Oh...uh...sorry. I just..." I realized that my cheeks were still wet, and suddenly everything came flooding out. What a sight I was! I started to cry...actually, sob is more like it. I sank to my knees, covering my face partly in shame of the scene I was making, partly out of instinct. Gentle hands took my wrists and pulled my hands from my face and I found myself looking into Peter's red-brown, beautiful eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked. I breathed heavily, trying to calm myself.

"It's just that I've been waiting for you my whole life, and now that you're here...You _are_ really here!" I sounded so silly, but I was not really thinking about that at the moment. I tried to explain. "Peter, do you know how many nights I have searched for the Neverland star? And my mother has told me I need to..." I couldn't finish the sentence. He simply remained in his crouch position, holding my wrists and watching me curiously. I became overwhelmed with emotion and I sprang forward and hugged him. Yes, I hugged him tightly, so tightly. This caught him off guard, of course, and he fell back, saying, "Whoa!"

"Owe!" I screeched in reply. "Owe! My hair!" I reached to my ponytail as my hair was released, and Peter leaped into the air, shouting, "Stop it, Tink!" 'Ah, Tinker Bell,' I thought. She explained the delicate bells I had heard earlier. Peter landed in front of me and helped me up again. He held his cap around a bright light.

"Tinker Bell," I laughed, smiling. I was answered with angry chimes.

"Yep, this is Tinker Bell. I don't know what got into her," Peter said, peering into his hat. The fairy seemed to be yelling at him. "Tink, she only hugged me. What's the big deal?" More angry chimes. "Uhuh."

"Peter?" I asked timidly. He looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Might I have a look at her?" He did not answer, but held out his cap for me and I looked into it eagerly. And there she was. The little, beautiful pixie with golden hair tied into a loose bun and bangs hanging over her eyes. Such blue eyes. The short green dress shaped in upside-down triangles at the bottom, the long legs, and the adorable little green shoes with the white puffs on top. Oh! She was lovely! So much so that I gasped in delight. She responded with a death look and furious chimes. I couldn't help but think it all so cute, and I put my fingers to my lips in a small giggle…such a girly thing to do. "What did she say, Peter?"

"She says she will murder you if you hug me again," he said simply.

"Huh." I had expected her to comment on my looks.

"And she says you are a dumb ugly girl!" Peter laughed. There was my visual insult!

"Hah!" I laughed too, knowing full well that the joke was on me. I didn't care. I had been waiting for this to happen my whole life, and it was wonderfully grand! Tink flew out of the cap, leaving a shimmering trail of pixie dust behind her. I couldn't help but put my hand out to touch it. It sprinkled delicately upon my fingers, giving me a similar feeling, if not the same feeling, that holding Peter's hand gave me. "I would so love to fly," I whispered without thinking, just admiring the beautiful substance on my wiggling fingers. I knew I just had to get to Neverland, but Peter had not even invited me yet, and here I was talking about flying! What if he rejected me if I was too forward? But before he answered, something occurred to me. "Peter, why are you here? And how on Earth did you get in?" I asked, turning my head to the left to look at my window as he pointed to it. He had apparently cut the screen. "Ah," I said.

"I came to listen to your stories, of course," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I mean, I might have expected this for an answer, but I didn't really tell my own stories. I just read books aloud now and again, and typed my own stories without reading them to anyone.

"My stories? They're not mine, though. I only read them aloud from books."

"It's still fun to listen to them, and I know you write them, too. I see you on that...thing all the time," he said, pointing to my laptop. I giggled about his ignorance to technology and nodded. "And sometimes you read them from there. That was quite the performance, by the way, though not exactly as it happened." I looked at him questioningly, then remembered my portrayal of Peter's grand fight with Hook, and I blushed a deep pink. Funny how I had wanted him to be watching, but now that I knew he had seen me I was sheepish.

"You saw that, did ya?" I asked softly, looking at the ground and rubbing a toe into the rug in embarrassment. Peter must have seen my sheepishness, for he sat back in the air and laughed.

"Sure did! You put on a bit of a show, girl!"

"My name is Rebecca, not girl," I corrected him. "Rebecca Anne Cubells-"

"Rebecca's enough," Peter said, waving a hand. I giggled again. Peter Pan was exactly how I had read about him in my books and exactly how I had seen him in the movies. "So, get on with it, then!"

"Get on with what?" I asked, utterly bemused.

"Showing me what that thing is, of course." Peter pointed to my laptop again.

"Oh! Ha ha, I had no idea what you were talking about! Well, this is called a laptop and it does all sorts of things for you. It opens up like this," I folded the top down and up again to show him. "See, it has a cool green background with that leaf design. Green is my favorite color, you know, and it's because of you, and I do love blue too. Anyway, laptops and computers are really convenient tools. Heh, don't know how I'd live without them, really. I basically just write on my laptop and go online, but there are _so_ many other things to use and I just haven't explored them yet. Online is really cool. It's this thing you use to communicate with friends electronically. When I say electronically, I mean-"

"Girls really do talk too much!" Peter cut in, shaking his head. I blushed again.

"Oh, sorry. Well, I guess I'll just show you my stories, then." And with that, I sat down to get back onto Microsoft Word and open up my stories about him. Peter stood by my side and watched with interest. "Here's the one I've been writing since last spring. I'm starting the eighth chapter," I said after opening a document called 'Peter Pan and Sarah.'

"Sarah. Huh," Peter said to himself as he sat on my bed. "Read some of it to me. A part with me in it," he commanded. I was more than willing to read some of it to him, no matter how rudely he asked...or rather, told me to.

"All righty, then! Um...let me see...do you want something between you and Hook? Or you and Sar-"

"Whatever. Just something with me. Get reading!" I rolled my eyes at his oh-so-nice manners, and searched my story.

"Okay, here we go. 'Sarah jumped off the cloud to avoid the oncoming cannonball. She meant to fly, but her happy thoughts were extinguished in fear of death from the explosion, and she fell through the air, whistling toward the sea and too frozen in shock to scream. Behind her, Peter dodged a second cannonball as he dove down to save her-'"

"This is where I come in!" Peter announced excitedly. I chuckled, nodded, and returned to reading.

"Yes, our hero comes in here. '-with Tinker Bell wishing that the cannonball had hit Sarah. The jealous fairy-'" Just then, I felt a tiny pinch on my ear and felt the burning heat of that same angry pixie.

"Tink, cut it out!" Peter scolded, pushing her away. In reply, Tink flew into his face and yelled at him. Peter just shook his head, trying to get her out of his face. He finally grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. "Keep reading, Rebecca."

"Okay…" I said, though I felt a little sorry for Tinker Bell. "Where was I...ah! 'The jealous fairy looked on as Peter swooped under Sarah, fast as light, and her body landed in his outstretched arms, one arm supporting her under the knees and the other holding her back. She yelped as he caught her, and she clung to his neck as he flung them both out of the way of yet another cannon ball. Peter told the girl to think happy thoughts, but alas she could not; she was terrified. Peter resolved to leave her on the cloud with Tink while he distracted Hook by flying down for a battle. Little did he see Tinker Bell smiling wickedly to herself, for she was developing a plan to rid Neverland of Sarah. Meanwhile, a wild sword fight was about to take place.'" I stopped reading and turned to face Peter. He was excited and motioned for me to continue.

"Why'd ya stop? Keep going!" he said anxiously.

"Um, sorry but, that's where I stopped writing last time I added to it. There's nothing more to read of that one."

"What? Well, write more and then read it to me. Go on!" I exhaled a small laugh.

"Peter, it's not that easy. To write well I need to get in what I call my writing mode and I need to time to edit and-"

"Ah! Just get out another story and read!" I laughed and shook my head.

"Peter, if you get me reading, I'll end up wanting to edit and I won't be able to stop myself, and I don't even know if you would even _like_ my stories."

"I do like them! I love stories about me!" He smiled and began to bounce up and down on my bed. To think that Peter Pan was sitting, bouncing, on my own bed...I shook my thoughts away. I no longer wanted to read to him. I wanted to go to Neverland! But then I looked at the time. It was approaching 1:30 AM, and I knew that my mother and brother and sister would not be out much longer. As if to prove it, my phone rang again and I got a pain in my stomach. Peter looked at the ringing instrument sharply. "What's that?" Tinker Bell also flew over to inspect it with suspicious eyes.

"It's called a cell phone. It's used for communication," I explained quickly before picking up the phone. Peter was about to speak again, but I slapped my hand on his mouth, silencing him. I did _not_ want my mother to hear a male voice in the background! Tink furiously wrestled with my hand. She couldn't stand me treating Peter like that! He just looked at me, confused.

"Hi, mom," I said, trying to hide my contempt and hoping Peter would get the hint to be quiet as I released his mouth (the pixie was biting me).

"Hi." It was a curt greeting. "I was checking to see if you were sleeping because I know that you would have put your phone on silent and I would've gotten the voice mail greeting." When I heard this, I mentally yelled at myself for bothering to pick up my phone. Now my mother was even angrier with me. I saw Peter open his mouth again and I vigorously shook my head and mouthed 'grown-up' while pointing to the phone. Bad idea. Peter's eyes widened and he jumped into the air exclaiming, "Grown-up!" Without thinking, I shushed him, which my mom clearly heard.

"Bec, who's there with you?" I panicked.

"Um, no one."

"I heard a male voice, Bec. Zach isn't there, is he?" Zach was my boyfriend.

"Mom, he doesn't have a break from college right now."

"That's what I thought. So, who's there with you?"

"I told you, no one!"

"Then why did you shush someone?"

"Um..." I thought desperately. "I was shushing the dog." Bad lie; she'd never buy it. I mentally yelled at myself again.

"I didn't hear any barking," she told me

"Shayna was about to bark, though."

"Becky, _what_ is going on? I don't like it when you lie to me." She had said that to me before, and it had hurt then. I hated her for saying it again now; it left a sharper sting than it had the first time. I looked at Peter, pleading with my eyes for him to get me out of this, how I did not know. He was just looking at me strangely. He obviously had no idea what was going on. As my mother spoke again, I held out the phone so that he could hear the sound coming out of it. "Bec? Bec! Are you still there?" She yelled into the phone. She was getting scared; I could hear it in her voice. Before I could react, Peter grabbed the phone from my hand.

"How do you shut this thing off?" he asked me.

"Rebecca! Who is that boy!"

"Mom-" I said loudly, trying to take back the telephone. Peter held it out of my grasp and started to press buttons.

"BEC!"

"MOM!" I shouted back. Good grief, I was frightening her. I had to get that phone back! "Peter, please give me the phone!"

"PETER?! WHO IS PETER?!" she screamed.

"Peter Pan," Peter proudly announced, and finally pressed the button that shut off the phone. He evidently realized this, for he stopped pressing buttons. My first instinct was to keep trying to grab my phone back. But then I thought about what my mother was planning to do and I stopped. A saddened expression painted my face and I stared at the darn cellular telephone in confusion. 'Should I call her back and face growing up? Or should I let her worry...'

"I..." I trailed off in a sigh, sinking into my bed.

"Rebecca, what is it?" Peter knelt on the bed beside me. I saw my blanket, dropped to the floor in my haste to answer my phone. Before I could stop myself, I snatched up my blanket, urgently saying, "No, no, no…" and vigorously shaking my head from side to side. I held my blanket up to my face. "Rebecca?" I looked at Peter with tears in my eyes and said it.

"She's going to take away my blanket. And my books. She wants me to…says I need to…grow up."

"Grow up!" he exclaimed again and jumped off the bed and into the air.

"Yes, and I do not want to. Ever," I declared. "She's going to take away my books about you and my blanket, and I've had my blanket for as long as I can remember," I told him, holding out it for him to see. "She says it'll make me grow up, become an adult."

"And...no more stories?" he asked quietly. I shook my head no. He inhaled, about to respond, but the phone, still in his hand, rang again. He looked at it and opened it. I guessed he had figured out how to shut it.

"REBECCA!" my mother's voice screamed out of the device.

"She does _not_ want to talk to you, grown-up lady," Peter said. With that, he tossed my phone out the window and it vanished into the darkness. I gasped, listening for its landing. He had thrown it far enough that it had not even landed on the roof! It was going to take me ages to find it! The boy floated back to me and took my hands.

"Peter-"

"Rebecca, come with me. To Neverland! You'll _never_ grow up there!" He started to pull me to the window. "Come on!"

"But...wait!" He stopped and looked down at me. This was all I had ever wanted and yet I still hesitated.

"What about my friends?"

"You'll make new ones!"

"And...school? College?"

"You can't honestly tell me that you actually _want_ to go to school," Peter scoffed.

"Well, my family..."

"Rebecca," he said, and I looked into his eyes as he floated gracefully to the ground and starred at me intently. I could feel adventurous energy flowing through him to me. It was an incredible feeling, making me want to burst into the air and crow as loud as I could. I waited, all ears, for what he had to say. "Come to Neverland and you will _never_ have to worry about any of them again. Never ever. I'll give you the greatest adventures you'll ever have. More amazing than you can imagine." I starred at him in pure wonder, fully believing every word he said. "Come with me," Peter whispered.

I didn't say anything, but looked around my room. So many memories. I looked back at Peter, rising and floating so effortlessly in the air, gently pulling me to my window. I thought of Neverland, the adventures I had dreamt I would have. 'Peter Pan is taking me to Neverland. This is really happening,' my thoughts whispered. There it was...mischief. It smiled in my mouth. Peter recognized it instantly and smiled back with his whole being; he knew that mischievous smile meant yes. His eyes drew me in, almost making me fly by themselves.

"Let me get some things," I said softly, energetically. He nodded and I raced about, grabbing the clothes and notebooks and contact lenses and toothbrush and toothpaste, and of course, my blanket...everything I had long ago promised myself I would bring. I slipped these things into a smack backpack and ran back to Peter. I was ready.

"Teach me to fly," I said. He smiled down at me, an evilly adventurous expression playing on his face.

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**There you have it:) Reviews, but no flames, please!!!! THANK YOU!!!!**


	4. Chapter Four: Escape to Neverland

**Here is chapter 4...it's not as long as the others, sorry, but chapter 5 will be up as soon as I get some reviews!!!! THANK YOU!!!! **

** Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or any of the original story. I only own Rebecca and anyone/thing that you don't recognize.  
**

**Chapter Four: Escape to Neverland!**

Peter looked around and called for Tinker Bell, who of course refused to come over to him. I watched him chase her around my room until he had caught her. He tapped her over my head and I felt the brilliant pixie dust showering all over me. It tingled and tickled and I laughed with glee and clapped my hands, just like a five year old. Peter laughed at my reaction.

"Just think of a wonderful thought," he told me. And, oh, I did! 'Neverland, Lost Boys, fairies, pirates, adventure...FLYING!' The thought hit me, and my face lit up under the glittering dust and I felt my feet rise from the carpet. I cried out in happiness and hugged my arms to my chest in an ecstatic twirl. Golden dust blew everywhere and my bureau, carpet, bed, and all the other things surrounding me were soon sparkling with it. Some smaller things like nail polish and gum packets started to rise. I laughed, and started diving around to bring them back to their places, but Peter pulled me back. "Let them be! It's more fun!"

I was shimmering from head to toe, outside and in, and instead of pushing the floating objects back down, I took a pack of gum and threw it at Peter. He dodged it and it hit a wall in a splatter of pixie dust. Peter got me back by grabbing a hovering lipstick and sending it flipping towards me. I tried to dart out of the way, but I wasn't fast enough and it bounced off of my arm. Soon Peter and I had a match going. I never once got him, which didn't surprise me, but he got me nearly every time. The few times when I wasn't hit were literally just lucky dodges on my part. In a matter of seconds, my things littered the floor, and for once I didn't care. I even screamed it!

"I DON'T CARE!!!" I announced to everyone who had ever told me that I was too messy. "I'LL MAKE ALL THE MESS THAT I BLOODY WELL PLEASE!!" Peter and I laughed together and I sort of swam through the air to join him. He was proudly sitting in midair, legs straight and straddled in a "V", fists on hips, and watching me. I looked down at my feet, flinging elatedly all over the place, and I looked up to the ceiling, beaming, mouth open and teeth glowing white in a huge smile. Before I knew it, my head bounced against my ceiling and I got that feeling that Wendy and John and Michael had gotten in the book when they bounced against the ceiling, for as the book stated, there is little that is as wonderfully pleasing a feeling as bouncing against a ceiling!

"I'M FLYING! I'M FLYING!" I screamed. I couldn't help it; I had to scream in my jubilance.

"YOU'RE FLYING!" Peter shouted with me, taking my hand. How I didn't hear them come in, I don't know…I was likely to have been too distracted, but just then my mother's footsteps resounded on the stairs.

"FLYING?! REBECCA!" I gasped and looked at Peter...up at him because before I knew it, my happy thoughts were gone and I landed on my feet with a thud. Peter looked at the door and then snatched my hand.

"Come on!" My mother reached the top of the stairs and the floor creaked up to the door as Peter yanked me out the window. I hadn't even thought of something happy yet, and my legs slapped against the windowsill. I winced in pain and heard my door open. I tightened my grip on Peter's hand as he pulled me to the side of the window.

"REBECCA!" My mother raced for the window.

"Happy thoughts!" Peter whispered. 'FLYING!' I felt myself pulled into the air, up and away. "Don't look back!" Peter said as I glanced down to my roof at my mother, who was now standing on it and calling out to me. For a moment, I felt homesick and sorry for leaving her in distress. The soft cushion of my blanket in my backpack willed me on, though, and just like that, the guilt was gone. Could she see me? What did it matter? I was flying! I snapped my head back to Peter and smiled. We flew faster and sped through the air. That was the last time I would see my mother for a long time.

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**There you have it...PLEASE review!!!   
**


	5. Chapter Five: A Game

**Hello again!!!! I felt bad about chapter 4 being so short, so I decided to update with chapter 5 quickly, which is a bit longer...Hope you enjoy!!!**

** Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or any of the original story. I only own Rebecca and anyone/thing else you don't recognize.  
**

**  
Chapter Five: A Game**

The cool night air whistled through my hair and Peter Pan, Tinker Bell, and I soared into the clouds. It got a lot colder up here, but I had grabbed a large sweatshirt, which I started to pull on. I let my bag hang from my foot as I snuggled into the sweatshirt, relishing the warmth. Slipping my bag back onto my shoulders, I looked down...down, down...and I realized that I had not yet really explored just what I could do in the air. Peter was not paying me any attention at the moment, and I slowed to a stop and looked around me. It was absolutely incredible!

Velvet night, mists of clouds, and STARS! Everywhere stars! It might sound cliché, but they did literally look like glittering diamonds against the black sky. Amazing! I twirled; I looked down again, and started to descend a little, as I felt shaky, being up so high. 'Happy thoughts, come on!' I thought. 'Flying!' I was so excited, but I could not help feeling some degree of nervousness. I continued to sink, which was honestly scaring me a bit. It was not like rock climbing, where I was safely on a rope should I fall. 'Oh my, perhaps I rushed into this flying thing too fast,' I wondered. 'Hold it, I can do this...can't I...?' Just as I began to panic, a firm hand gripped mine and I looked up shakily.

"And where do you think you're going?" Peter asked me, cocking up an eyebrow with a grin.

"Um...I was going down...and I think I still am, Peter!" I felt myself relying solely on his hand, and I gasped, hanging there. "Peter, _don't_ let me go!" He laughed.

"Rebecca, relax! Just think of a wonderful thought!" I nodded vigorously and thought, but it wasn't working. "You're not relaxing," he told me.

"If I relax, I'll fall!" His carefree nature was making me all the more tense, and it frustrated me that he seemed to _enjoy_ that!

"Ha ha ha, on the contrary! If you _tense up_, you'll fall! Now, relax and think of a wonderful thought." With that, he released my hand. I plummeted toward the city far below, screaming. "Relax! Happy thoughts!" I heard Peter call after me.

"PETER!" Looking up, I saw him sitting back in the sky, laughing hysterically. If I had been starting to panic before, I was past panicking now. I mean, how could I think straight when I was on the life or death line? Nevertheless, I tried. "Happy thoughts, HAPPY THOUGHTS!" I screamed. "NEVERLAND! FLYING! FAIRIES! MUST RELAX!" I looked down and saw the tip of a steeple in the distance. I knew it would not be in the distance for long, and I was headed straight for it! I looked up for help again, but Peter and Tinker Bell were no longer visible. Tinker Bell was probably laughing at me at the moment, actually. Determined to live, I shut my eyes and thought only of Neverland and everything to do with it. I thought and thought. I forced my body to loosen a bit. I spoke my thoughts aloud.

"All right, you don't need to try that hard!" a boy's voice said next to me. I opened my eyes and saw Peter. I looked down and saw the steeple point perhaps a mere ten feet beneath me, but the wind had stopped. I was floating again. And then I heard him laugh. He laughed so hard...

"Peter Pan..." I looked at him viscously. He caught my evil gaze and made a scornful 'I'm so scared' face. "Peter, I swear, if you put me through that again, I'll-"

"You'll what?" He sat cross-legged in the air, folding his arms, looking down at me. "You'll catch me?" I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out, so instead, I closed my mouth and just stared at him with as threatening a look as I could muster. He obnoxiously covered his mouth with his fingertips and raised his eyebrows, saying, "Oh no, Tink! She's going to catch me! And then who knows what she'll do!"

"Pan...I'm warning you..." I ascended toward him, my happy thought now consisting of catching him and tickling him or something. He faked a yelp and slowly floated further from me. That did it! I sped toward him, and he laughed and took off toward the moon. "Peter! I'm going to get you!" I yelled after him.

"Ha ha ha, good luck with that!" he mocked. I chased him. I tried so hard to catch him...but it was rather foolish of me to think that I could even somewhat catch up to him, never mind actually get him! He sped away with grace while I trailed behind, breathing hard and flailing my limbs as if they would help me go faster instead of creating drag. Tinker Bell actually dashed back at me, distracting me by zooming around my head and Peter gained even more space. He finally glanced back, and I was in the distance behind him. He shot back to me within a matter of seconds.

"Pe...ter..." I puffed out. "You've...got...an unfair...advantage."

"Unfair? What is so unfair about me being a better flyer than you are?"

"Hey!"

"What? It's true! I _am_ Peter Pan, after all!" I swatted at him, and of course he flipped out of reach of my hand with such ease...I must admit, it got a tad bit frustrating. It was like trying to catch a little minnow with your hands. The tiny fish darts in and out of your fingers, always just barely slipping out as your hands clamp shut, and just when you're sure that you've captured it, you see it swimming about and circling your hands, mocking you. Well, that is a pretty accurate description of what it was like to try to catch Peter, as I soon found out. He laughed at me and said, "All right, fine. I'll give you some slack." Not knowing what to expect he meant by that, I just dashed after him. He streaked under me and poked me in the back. I gasped and went rigid; he had hit an especially sensitive ticklish spot in my mid-back. I could see where this was headed now. Waiting a few seconds so as to try to catch him off guard, I spun and snatched at him, but he was gone before I even finished turning around and he poked me in the ribs.

"Peter!" I cried in protest. He swept around me and stopped in front of me, where I again reached out to grab him. He ducked under my hands and tickled my stomach. "Hey!" I laughed, clutching my belly. He grabbed my sides and tickled me and all I could do was try in vain to catch his hands and laugh. "Seriously, stop!"

"Hmmm, saying 'seriously' and laughing at the same time. That's a new one!" he said. I tried to spin and wrap my arms around his waist. I'm sure I looked incredibly stupid as I hugged the air. Peter flew over me and down and grabbed my ankles, flipping me upside down, and he started to pull me through the air, laughing. Tink, burning in jealousy, attacked my face and without thinking, I swatted at her, which made me feel guilty, though I didn't actually hit her. I pulled myself up to my feet and grabbed at Peter's hands...only to discover I couldn't reach them. He kept yanking my ankles away just as I was about to grasp them. Next plan. I went back to hanging from my feet, then looked up above my head and saw Peter's feet in reach. Without a second thought, I snatched and caught them! This finally took Peter by surprise, and he kicked, but as I was a rock climber, I had developed a good grip, and was able to cling to his ankles even as he struggled.

"Gotcha, Pan!" I yelled triumphantly, with Tinker Bell still whizzing about my face.

"We'll see about that!" the boy retorted, and I suddenly felt myself yanked back as Peter dove forward with my ankles. And just like that, we were somersaulting through the sky, hanging on to each other's ankles, and laughing so gaily. Now I was only getting small flashes of Tinker Bell's light as I watched everything spin rapidly past me. I was getting dizzy, but I refused to let go first. I couldn't let Peter win this one! Then again, didn't he always win? I clenched my teeth and tightened my grip as much as I could. And then I got an idea. I was going to win this game! I watched Peter's feet closely, and then, quick as I could, I let go of one foot and tickled the one I was holding...only to be flung into the abyss.

I spun and rolled and twirled...every turning move there is, I did it all through the darkness. Peter and Tink were left far, far behind and below. I was all alone. That's when it happened. I had been light-headed from the lack of oxygen before, yes, but I was flung far higher than we had been, and now the low levels of oxygen really began to effect me. The obvious solution would be to simply descend a bit...problem is that a lack of oxygen also makes a person stupid. Hence, I wasn't able to think of descending at all. Heck, I didn't even notice those dangerously low oxygen levels decreasing as I went even higher. And all of a sudden, I fainted.

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**There you go...just to say it now, chapter 6 will be another short one, but I tend to update fast, so chapter 7 will be up soon after that!!! Reviews, please:D THANK YOU!!!!!**


	6. Chapter Six: A Close Call

**Okay, so here is chapter 6...chapter 7 will be on the way VERY shortly, and it is a LOT longer than this, I promise!!! **

** Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or Tinker Bell or any of the original story. I only own Rebecca and anyone/thing else that you don't recognize.  
**

**Chapter Six: A Close Call**

Wind dragged back the skin on my face and sliced through my watery eyes, waking me up. As I came to, I looked around me, not thinking clearly at all, and saw a concrete building roof rushing up to meet me. I only saw it, mind you. Like I said, I was not thinking clearly, so I wasn't comprehending anything yet. I just looked on stupidly as that shadowy roof rapidly approached my vulnerable body. And then I heard a faint cry and wondered what it was. It seemed to be calling to me...maybe?

The roof was no more than twenty feet away when I saw a flash of green and felt my body being supported by arms. And then a jolt as I came to a very sudden stop. I sort of just sat there, calmly breathing, as my brain was finally fed with oxygen. When I started to comprehend what was going on, I shook my head. Someone was saying my name. I looked around. Down, black ground, up, sky, to my right, Peter Pan, behind me,...Peter Pan! His face was like a wake-up call as I snapped my head back to look up at him.

"Rebecca!" he said. "Can you hear me?"

"Uh...yes..." I must admit that I was quite perplexed by the whole situation. Was on Earth was I doing, sitting in Peter's arms, one arm holding his shoulder...with a roof under me...and the sky above me...my eyes widened. "Oh," I said softly. "Oh." Peter released my legs and I let go of his shoulder and stood. I looked sideways at Peter, finally understanding that he had saved my life. "Peter..."

"Are you all right? I barely found you in time," he told me. I looked down at the roof again and shivered at the thought.

"I...I'm fine, b-...but...wow...y-you saved my life. Eh...thank you." I didn't really know what to say, but he just smiled broadly.

"Fun, though, wasn't it?" he asked me.

"Hmmm? What? Oh, that game. Yea, it was fun," I responded, but my mind was on my near-death experience and I was shaking.

"Just try not to go so high next time, huh? Not without me, anyway," Peter chuckled.

"Yea...sure..."

"C'mon." And he took my right hand and pulled me into the sky. I wasn't really thinking happy thoughts. I wasn't thinking anything. I was just dazed. The words 'he saved my life' kept running through my head, and I guess that was a happy enough thought in itself. 'And I was hardly awake enough to even notice,' I added. Little did I know that it was only the first of many near-death experiences that I was soon to face.

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**There you have it. Like I said, chapter 7 is coming soon and will be LONGER and with a bit more happening, so bare with me here please!!! Reviews, PLEASE!!!! THANK YOU:D**


	7. Chapter Seven: Into His World

**Chapter Seven: Into His World **

"Tinker Bell!" Peter called into the mist above us. A little light appeared between two clouds. "I found Rebecca! Let's go!" There was a quiet chime of what sounded like fast, angry bells, like the fairy was mumbling irritably to herself, probably about me. 'Not much I can do about that, though,' I thought to make myself feel better about her hard feelings toward me. Moving on, I looked at Peter with a nagging question in mind.

"Peter? Where is the second star to the right?" Peter grinned and I felt my arm yanked forward as we suddenly increased speed. Wind brought tears down my face, and I was loving the feeling of my hair being stretched behind me as far as it could go.

"Right there, Rebecca," I heard Peter tell me. I looked ahead as he pulled me up next to him pointed to two stars, the one on the right slightly bigger than the first, and both twinkling brighter than any other stars I had ever seen. I might have taken them both to be planets, but what two planets are aligned so perfectly, one just a bit bigger and sitting just to the right and higher of the other? Besides, I swear I felt some sort of magic in the air as we got closer, aside from the pixie dust. Nay, this was a feeling of adventure awaiting me only a little ways off. If adventure has a smell, it's...well, impossible to describe, really, but I was smelling it right there. It was a mix of salty sea, fresh air, rich soil, pine trees, sweat, a hint of blood, and magic. It was the smell of Neverland.

"Oh..." I whispered in wonder. "How have I never spotted those stars before? Or have I and I just didn't recognize them?"

"Maybe you just have to know where to look," Peter suggested, shrugging his shoulders. He was enjoying watching me as I was mesmerized with those two brilliant stars, but he soon was bored. "We're slowing down. Come on! The sooner we get there, the sooner the fun can start!" With that, he took off, no longer holding my hand, and it was all I could do to keep within at least 40 feet of him. I bit my lip. His absent-mindedness was so cute, but I did not like being left behind...at least, not in the transition between this world and his.

"Peter! Wait!" I shrieked. What happened next was…well, I had always believed in the impossible, but this experience would have made _anybody_ believe that the impossible is possible. Peter was at my side in a second and I felt my hand in an iron grip.

"Rebecca. Look at me." I turned my eyes to face another pair of eyes that were both firm and playful. Whatever he had to tell me, I was all ears. "Do _not_ let go." And with those four words, we took off.

"WHOA! AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed to the heavens. I held onto Peter's hand with both of my hands and it was all I could do not to let go! The temperature went very hot, and just when I thought I could not survive the heat, I was suddenly freezing. A flash of red and yellow, fiery colors, and then as black as anything can get, and tiny diamond lights all around me. I tried to gasp, and discovered that I could not. I couldn't breathe! Were we really going that fast? Now a mix of incredible heat and cold at the same time…my hands ached terribly from hanging on so tightly, but I did not dare loosen them. My grip was very nearly slipping as it was, and it would have slipped if not for Peter's amazing unyielding clutch. I attempted to scream Peter's name, but like I said, I couldn't breathe, hence, I could not talk. I couldn't really make any sound at all, nor could I hear anything expect for an incredible rush of wind and pressure like I had never experienced before. If the pressure in an airplane is uncomfortable, this was over a hundred times worse. My lungs were being flattened and I don't think I could have lasted another moment, but in that very next moment, I was free.

I breathed gratefully and coughed, still gripping Peter's hand with everything I had, but his hand loosened and we slowed. I looked around and saw delicate white puffs about to collide with my face. There was barely time for a gasp before I bounced upon the most comfortably soft material I had ever known. Peter released my hands, but my hands insisted on holding on steadfast, and I heard a laugh.

"You can let go of my hand, now, Rebecca." I slowly pried my fingers from around his palm, as they were literally in a finger lock. I forced them to stretch and un-clamp themselves, and then pushed myself into a kneeling position. Peter dropped to one knee in front of me. "Did ya like that?" He was smiling and my jaw was hanging open.

"Whoa…" I whispered. It took me a few seconds to collect my thoughts, and then I said, "That was bloody brilliant." Peter sat back and laughed.

"You handled it a lot better then some of the others I've brought with me!" I exhaled a sharp breath in a tiny laugh. I was just…dazed in amazement.

"Wow," I whispered, shaking my head from side to side ever so slightly. "I'm going to want to do that again!" Peter laughed harder.

"You just might be the first one who has said that!"

"Well, who _wouldn't_ want to do that again?" I exclaimed, collapsing onto my back. Ooo, this stuff underneath me was incredible! "Peter, what is this?"

"What's what?"

"This," I replied, pointing at the fluff, and then looking over the edge and fully opening my mouth with a huge gasp in joy. I didn't even hear him say, "It's a cloud," which is a good thing because he said it in a tone that would have made me feel like an idiot. But I was too busy absorbing everything underneath us. The bluest and greenest mix of seawater glistened up at me, as if to welcome me. A wonderfully, perfectly green island balanced atop the water, holding up snow-capped mountains and the Indian Camp, and the Mermaid's Lagoon, and faint waterfalls and golden beaches, and oh yes, the surrounding water harboring Skull Rock and the Jolly Roger and radiant rainbows…

"Like it?" I looked to my right to find Peter leaning over the edge with me.

"It's…" I murmured. My head was shaking again. "It's…magical, Peter…" I whispered in elation.

"I'll take that to be a yes," he laughed. "Awesome, isn't it?"

"Eh, YA! It's _past_ awesome. Try…try amazing, incredible, brilliant, beyond dreams!"

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Peter hopped off the cloud and at the moment I truly didn't care whether I fell into that glimmering water or floated in the air, so of course, as I jumped off after him, I floated, being so happy.

I was more startled then happy, however, as a thunderous crack exploded in my eardrums. A cannonball headed in my direction and I dove out of the way, head first into another cloud as the thing whistled past. I carefully looked over the tip of this next cloud, only to duck back down as another cannonball streaked into the sky.

"Rebecca, look out!" Peter called to me, and I just barely rolled out of the way as that cannonball shot through the cloud. "LASHER! I TOLD YOU NOT TO…ah, I've gotta go and talk to him. Rebecca! Tinker Bell will take you to the island. I'll catch up with you later. GO!" I nodded and rolled the rest of the way off of the cloud, wondering who this 'Lasher' was and chasing the tiny light through the air. Hook didn't have the Jolly Roger anymore, did he? Hadn't Peter defeated him and taken over the ship? More explosions sounded and I glanced back to see Peter headed toward the ship, dodging the cannonballs, seemingly not phased by the danger at all. He was so funny in that way, among so many other ways. I turned back to see the light far ahead of me disappear under the treetops.

"Tinker Bell, you are _not_ going to fool me. Wendy, maybe, but not me!" I said. With that, I changed my route and headed for the Mermaid's Lagoon. I supposed I could land on the rocks there and walk around a bit until I found Peter or the Lost Boys. Perhaps I was being paranoid, but I was not about to succumb to a plot to be shot out of the sky. My plan worked.

As I neared the cliffs surrounding the lagoon, I looked back to see stones, sticks, and arrows shot at a very large bird passing over the trees, a kind of bird I had never seen before. It was black with sapphire blue and emerald green patches on its back and belly, and it looked as if it had dipped its wingtips in a pool of silver. As I admired it, an arrow pierced the poor thing's breast and it fell into the forest with a blood-curdling squawk. I shuddered at the sound, softly saying, "Poor bird. Well, this time, they actually did shoot a bird, at least, and not a human." I sank through the top of the forest and after landing, began to walk through the very dense greenery. It was beautiful. Smelled of every nature smell I can name, plus new ones that I suppose only exist in Neverland. "Now, how to find my way to the hideout. Wait a minute. Will there be a hideout? In the Disney, Hook bombs it, but in the book, he tries to poison Peter…" My first question about finding the hideout was answered.

"Rebecca!"

"I'm over here!" I called back, running toward Peter's voice. 'I'm going to have to get skillful at dodging all this foliage,' I thought as I tripped over a tree root and slammed my knee into the ground. I clenched my teeth against the sting and continued to run.

"Rebecca!" Another few seconds and I nearly crashed into Peter, skidding to a stop…I actually ended up slipping on the dewy leaves under my feet and I fell on my bum at Peter's feet and laughed.

"Ouch," I chuckled. He gave me a hand up, laughing with me.

"Are you okay?"

"Yep. I'm fine."

"What happened there?" I looked down to where he was pointing and spotted a patch of dirt on my pajama pants over my right knee, the one I had slammed into the ground.

"Ah, I just tripped. No big deal," I said, dropping onto my left knee and snatching up my pant leg to see the damage. It was skinned and there were little bits of blood. Nothing huge. I pushed my pant leg back down, shrugging, and stood. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing," I told Peter. He looked at me strangely.

"Normally girls completely freak out when they see blood," he commented. I laughed.

"Not me! I guess I have a stronger stomach or something. Blood is usually no big deal to me."

"Huh. All right, then, come on. I'll show ya my home." He took my left hand and started to lead me through the forest. "Say, why didn't ya follow Tinker Bell?"

"Um, Peter, she would have had the Lost Boys shoot me down is why."

"No, they shot down tonight's dinner."

"Thinking it was me," I insisted.

"Tink wouldn't do that." His tone made my assumption sound ridiculous.

"She did it to Wendy, did she not?" I retorted.

"Oh. Yeah, but she wouldn't do it again. She knows better now."

"Whatever you say, Peter," I relented, still feeling fairly sure that Tink had meant for the boys to shoot and kill me instead, but I didn't comment on it any further, as I didn't see a point in pursuing the matter. Then something else occurred to me. "Peter, didn't you defeat Hook?"

"That codfish? Yeah, why?" Peter asked.

"Well, who was shooting those cannonballs, then?"

"Oh. Lasher. It's a game between us; he shoots the cannons while I dodge them. It's a lot of fun, but I've told him time and time again _not_ to do it when I've got someone with me," Peter told me, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. 'Huh, a game involving dodging cannonballs. How…like Peter Pan to take such risks,' I thought amusedly, shaking my own head.

"Say, who's Lasher?"

"One of the Lost Boys. He's the tallest, next to me, but his twin sister is my second-in-command." 'New Lost Boys…excellent!' I thought excitedly. I certainly liked the ones I knew from the stories, but new ones were quite intriguing.

"What of the crocodile? Is he still around?" I asked curiously.

"Don't know about that. Haven't seen him since he chased Hook into the sunset. I think he swallowed the codfish…but I'm not sure what happened to the crocodile after that. All I know is that Hook is gone." Peter smiled broadly with this last confident statement.

"Oh! Poor thing!" I said with concern.

"Hook?!" Peter stopped short and whirled around to face me, shocked and appalled.

"No! The crocodile!" I quickly clarified, not liking the look on his face at all. "I mean, his insides could have been damaged if Hook clawed him. I'm not sorry for Hook!"

"Oh. Good." Peter seemed to have to shake himself out of the shock and he was silent as we continued to run through the woods.

"How much farther is it, Peter?"

"Not far."

"Is it still Hangman's Tree? Or did Hook bomb it?" I had to know which had happened, Peter nearly getting poisoned or bombed.

"The codfish bombed it, all right, but we fixed it up a bit. Had to get a new set up, though, and it took a while to clean the rubble above ground." So it had been bombed.

"Hook never tried to poison you, then?" I asked, meaning to think it instead of saying it.

"Oh, Hook tried to poison me too," Peter said, surprising me.

"What?"

"Too different plans to kill me." I did not quite understand, but I just shrugged, as I didn't feel like pursuing the matter and confusing myself more.

"Well, if he bombed the hideout, what's the set up now? How are you living in secret?" I wanted to know.

"You'll see." With that, we broke through some vines and I saw Hangman's Tree, exactly as it had always looked in the movie.

"It doesn't look any different to me," I commented.

"It will," Peter assured me. "See, that's just a chimney now. We've expanded a bit." I followed Peter to a large mushroom, wondering if 'we' meant the Lost Boys from the movie or new Lost Boys, and watched in curiosity as he nudged a tree root in a certain way with his foot. The mushroom slid to the side, revealing a hole. Peter looked at me, jerked his head indicating for me to follow, and jumped feet first into the hole in the ground. He let out a whoop as he vanished into the hole. I looked into the hole, only to see darkness. Biting my lip, I sat on the ground and slipped my legs into the hole, easing myself into the ground, but then the large mushroom began to slide shut.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, starting to push myself back up, but I couldn't do it fast enough. I held my breath and let myself fall, the tips of my fingers just barely slipping through before the mushroom slid shut. "Whoa…!" I yelled as I fell through a dark tunnel. In seconds, I was flying through the air in a lit room. I landed on some cushions on the floor, which must have been there for that very purpose. I looked up and saw Peter, fists on hips, grinning down at me. "That was wicked!" I said excitedly. He laughed and gave me a hand up.

"Ready to meet the Lost Boys?" Peter asked me.

"Sure!"

"All right. Lost Boys! Line up, boys!" he called.


	8. Chapter Eight: The Lost Boys

**Chapter Eight: The Lost Boys**

The room started to shake a little and there was a great tumble as a bunch of boys fell out of other tunnels, landing on different cushions. It was not until then that I began to observe the room. It had the objects that were in the movie and book. Peter's huge chair, a large bed, a large table, and a curtain, which presumably led to Peter's room, made up the surroundings. There was also a stone fireplace off to the side, that looked to lead into a small tunnel through the wall, probably to Hangman's Tree...that is, the chimney.

"In case you're wondering, we're sort of next to Hangman's Tree, which can be used as a chimney and an entrance. But now there are many other entrances and each boy has his own way of getting in, kind of like a password. I'm the only one who knows all the…passwords; let's call them passwords. It's easier. Anyway, there's a very secret entrance into Hangman's Tree. All the holes are just different places for smoke to go out. To get in…well, I'll just show ya later." Peter was obviously bored with explaining the dynamics of the hideout. "The good thing is that Hook thinks this is all bombed out, so it's still a secret that we live here. And even if he were to try to get in through Hangman's Tree, the only entrance is too hidden, and it's all rubble directly underneath the tree. Just the entrance leads around the rubble."

That answered a question I'd had. I nodded, and turned my head to observe the Lost Boys. They weren't the boys I knew from the story; those boys had gone with the Darling children. Now, I saw six boys. No, seven. With Peter they made a band of eight. The boys were lined up, tallest to shortest, and introduced themselves. The tallest stepped out, saluted Peter, and began to talk.

"I'm Lasher," he announced. He looked to be about twelve or thirteen and had tanned skin and dark brown, almost black hair that was shaggy and messily cut and striking blue eyes, much more salient my own blue eyes. He wore a vest and shorts made of animal skin, perhaps bear skin, and a vine with a small dagger, smaller than Peter's, circled his waist. His bare feet were almost completely brown and black with mud. Lasher didn't look like the friendliest of boys; his face was smudged with dirt and he refused to smile.

"My name is Braith," the next boy said, stepping out as Lasher stepped back. This boy had long dirty blonde hair that came down to his chest with a gray feather woven in and, again, striking blue eyes, and looked to be the same age as Lasher. The two of them were also of similar size, about 5'2", tall for their ages and not that much shorter than me; I stood at just under 5'4". Peter was by far the tallest in the room, at around 5'6".

Braith wore a dirty shirt that was once white, but was now brown and yellow with filth, and looked to be of the pirate style, loose with ruffles around the sleeves and a low-cut v-neck collar. It occurred to me that he might have stolen it from them. He wore black shorts that were probably originally pants because one short leg was ripped off above the knee and the other was ripped off just under the knee. Braith's feet were adorned in worn-out moccasins and a dirty navy-blue sash served as a belt, tied 'round his waist with a small dagger. He startled me out of my observations. "Just to get it out there now, I'm a _girl_, _not_ a boy."

I nearly jumped in surprise as the other girl looked at me with cold eyes. She was obviously accustomed to being mistaken for a boy and hated it. "Lasher is my twin brother. Don't even try to make fun of me, 'cause I don't care if I'm not a proper young lady. I'll kick your sorry butt if you make fun of me. I might be a girl, but I can still fight just as well as any boy-"

"Ahem!" Peter cleared his throat, a warning tone in the noise and Braith rolled her eyes.

"Any boy except Peter Pan." She looked at Peter and he nodded, satisfied. "But that goes without saying!" she added. "So when it comes to fighting, don't think I'm an easy opponent-"

"Zafen, go ahead," Peter interrupted, wanting to move on. Braith snapped her mouth shut and stepped back, glaring at me like it was my fault she had been cut off. She already had one incorrect stereotype about me, thinking that I was the type of girl who scoffed at a tomboy. Heh, she couldn't have been more wrong about me! I, personally, was partly tomboy and partly…well, a girl could be a little girly sometimes, right? But I certainly respected and even admired girls who were completely tomboys, so Braith's stereotypical assumptions annoyed me. Then again, it was clear that she was used to being teased, maybe even cast out, by other girls from her past because of her being a tomboy. So, I did have some understanding. The next boy, an African-American of about ten years, stepped out, smiling pleasantly.

"Well, Peter just said my name, but I'll say it anyway. I'm Zafen, but you can call me Zafe if you want. I think you're pretty!" I blushed at the compliment. He spoke in a perfect British accent, which I found to be adorable. I knew right away I was going to get along with this boy! He was dressed in animal-skin pants. He didn't have a shirt, shoes, or dagger, but he wore a necklace with a large pointed tooth as a pendant. His hair was scraggly and fell in a dome-shape around his head.

"Zafen!" Braith hissed at him.

"What? She _is_ pretty!" he insisted.

"Thank you," I responded, giggling. I caught Braith imitating me in a mocking manner, but the next boy, an Asian youth of maybe eight or nine, stepped out. His hair was hanging just above his ears, splattered with mud, a gorgeous shade of ebony. He wore a vine around his torso and had pants and moccasins fashioned by the Indians.

"I am Dreeplyr," he said softly while playing with his bellybutton. He had a strong Japanese accent, and I assumed that English was his second language. He hastily stepped back, looking at the ground.

"You can just call him Dreep," Peter told me. "He's a bit shy." The fifth boy stepped forward and introduced himself as Macted. He had golden-chestnut wavy hair that fell just under his chin. His eyes were a soft brown. I envied him for that hair of his; it was the kind of hair I had always wanted, being wavy. My own hair was straight and a regular brown, with very faded auburn dye on the bottom half. Honestly, I had always wanted Peter's auburn hair color and a bit of a wave. Ah well. The hair just made Dreep and Peter more pleasant to look at. Dreep wore a ragged navy-blue t-shirt and jeans. On his feet were brown-strapped sandals.

"I might be small, but I'm just as tough as Braith and Lasher. If you use a nickname for me, use Mact. _Don't_ call me Mac. I won't respond to that," he added before stepping back into line. His accent revealed that he was from Ireland. He looked to be about eight years old, but I could tell from something about his attitude that he was more like twelve. Tiny kid for that age.

"Mact is our newest Lost Boy," Peter informed me, which explained his modern clothes. For all I new, the other boys and girl were also from recent times, but they didn't have their original clothes on like Mact did.

"I'm Lymay," came a high-pitched voice that belonged to a child of around seven. "I don't have a nickname, but you can make one for me if you wish." He was so adorable! A small mulatto child with very short, fuzzy, curly brown hair, he wore nothing but shorts probably made by the Indians. He was incredibly filthy, but all the cuter for it!

"Well, I think I'm gonna end up calling you Lyme," I said affectionately, bending over to be eye-level with him. He giggled and stepped back.

"I like her, Peter!" he exclaimed and Peter laughed. Braith snorted. And at last the seventh Lost Boy had his chance.

"And my name is Catch," he squeaked. He was no more than five years old with almost white-blonde curls that hung in his light blue eyes. He wore an animal vest and shorts much like Lasher's, who had likely made them for him. He was barefoot, but had an anklet made from a vine with small claws hanging from it. His cheeks were dusted with freckles and he wore glasses that were scratched.

"Catch?" I asked, a tad bit amused.

"Yes," he said. "I like that name."

"Okay, Catch," I smiled.

"Are you our new mother? Braith won't be our mother," he sulked, poking out a fat bottom lip. Braith blew air through her teeth and rolled her eyes again.

"There's no way I'll _ever_ play mother." She said the word 'mother' with such disgust!

"See?" Catch asked, pointing at Braith. "Please be our mother." I thought about it…I hadn't really intended to be a mother…come to think of it, the thought had hardly occurred to me before now, but how could I say no to this cute kid?

"I…" I looked at Peter for help, but he just raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner. He was wondering the same thing, apparently. I turned back to the Lost Boys…and Lost Girl. "I don't have any real experience…" I didn't want to say that I wasn't going to do it. I mean, the idea of being a mother did not exactly deter me; I knew quite well that these boys were in need of a mother. But on the other hand, I wanted my stay here to be filled with adventures, not mothering duties. My conflicting thoughts were interrupted.

"Do you know any stories?" Zafen inquired excitedly. 'Hah, the inevitable question!' I thought to myself.

"And can you sew? Braith can't sew our clothes," Macted commented and again Braith scoffed.

"Just because I'm a girl-" she was cut off.

"And can you tuck us in at night?" Lymay wanted to know. I started to laugh. All of these questions were to be expected.

"Lost Boys, I-"

"Ahem!" Now Braith cleared her throat in anger and I faltered.

"…and Lost Girl…I can do all that. I happen to know lots of stories, and I can sew, if you like! I do love to tell stories," I added, and took a breath to say more, but a cheer erupted and I had to wait for them to quiet down. "But as for sewing, Braith is right. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean she should have to do the sewing." Braith snapped her head around to look at me in utter astonishment. I hoped that I had made it clear to her now that I was not one to accept all "girl's roles" jobs either. "Boys can sew too, you know," I went on. The boys looked at each other in confusion, never having thought of this option.

"But we don't know how. Girls always know how to do it naturally," Lasher said. Braith punched him in the arm (he ignored her) and I rolled my eyes.

"Actually, Lasher, girls have to learn to sew too. And I can teach you to sew. It's easy enough." Lasher shrugged his shoulders. The boys were muttering amongst themselves with Braith watching them, one eyebrow raised. A voice broke out.

"What about tucking us in?" Lymay asked. I cocked my mouth into a half-smile, figuring why not?

"Yes, I can tuck you in, too." He gave me a toothy grin, showing off two missing front teeth.

"Just don't expect to be getting _any_ help from me with that mother stuff," Braith said firmly. She was still not warming up to me, and I just nodded at her. I hadn't been planning on asking anyway. Lasher spoke up.

"What's your name, anyway?"

"Oh, right!" I smacked my forehead, chuckling. "I'm Rebecca."

"Any nicknames?" Lasher asked.

"Well, yea, my friends tend to call me Bec, so if you want to use that, you can."

"Rebecca. That's a pretty name for a pretty face," Zafen said.

"Psh," Braith huffed. "You think everything's pretty, Zafe."

"I don't think _you're_ pretty," he shot back. Braith didn't know how to react to this; she was obviously questioning whether she wanted to be pretty or if that would be too girly, but Peter made up her mind with an, "Ooo! He got you, Braith." Braith scowled and raised an arm to hit Zafen, but I caught her arm as it came down. Like Peter, I hated seeing the stronger pick on the weaker, and Braith had a good few inches on Zafen.

"Are you really such a coward that you need to pick on someone smaller than you?" I asked her coldly.

"You're my size," she responded and pounced on me. My first physical fight in Neverland had begun.


	9. Chapter Nine: Fight with Braith

**Hello!!!!! Okay, so I apologize for not updating quickly this time...and the last couple/few times, but I've had exams and final papers...but now I'm on BREAK:D That means...yea, I'll be updating a LOT more!!!!! YAY!!!!!! Anyway, here we go... **

**Disclaimer: Same thing it's always been...I do not own Peter Pan, Tinker Bell, or any of the original story. I only own Rebecca and anyone/thing else you don't recognize. **

**Chapter Nine: Fight with Braith**

Braith knocked me to the ground and straddled my stomach. She raised her right fist, the arm I wasn't holding, and thrust it toward my face, but I blocked the blow with my left arm. Braith came at me with her teeth and I tried to push her off…and I wasn't very successful. Her teeth caught my arm and she bit…_hard_.

"Ah!" I cried in pain, but she was pushed off to my right and Zafen landed on top of her, grabbing her wrists.

"Leave Rebecca alone!" he yelled.

"Get off me, you brat!" Braith yelled back, trying to sit up under him. While the two of them struggled, the other Lost Boys ran forward to join the tackle, never ones to miss out on a fight, and Peter stepped around the pile of flailing limbs. He offered me his hand and pulled me to my feet.

"Welcome to Neverland," he said with a smile. I looked at the bite mark on my left forearm and saw deep red teeth marks, and smiled back with a little giggle. "Ten-shun!" he yelled, turning to the fight. In an instant, the group was on their feet and saluting their captain. All except for Braith. She took a harsh swing at Zafen and caught him in the hip. He yelped and fell to his knees, clutching at his hip.

"Braith!" Peter yelled.

"Oh, come on ya wimp, I didn't hit ya that hard," Braith said, giving Zafen a shove with her hand.

"Braith, stop it! On your feet at attention NOW!" Peter yelled. Braith quickly stood up and saluted him. Peter helped Zafen to his feet. "You all right, Zafe?"

"Yea, fine," Zafen grumbled, still rubbing his hip. Peter scowled at Braith.

"I believe you owe someone an apology?" Braith's eyes shot from Peter to Zafen and stopped on the floor.

"Sorry," she muttered through gritted teeth.

"Louder!" Peter demanded. Braith blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and stared angrily at Peter, who raised his eyebrows, awaiting a more audible apology.

"Sorry, Zafen," she said flatly. The whole time she kept her eyes on Peter, a mean expression on her face, which apparently didn't affect him at all, except that he stared her down, seeming to ask, "Who do you think you are?" Everyone was quiet for a moment, and then Peter broke the tensioned silence.

"Lost Boys dismissed!" he announced. The boys started to go their own ways when Peter added, "Braith, stay behind." She was already crawling up her tunnel, and she stopped abruptly, the look on her face becoming even meaner. She slowly turned, stepped upon the floor again, and stood still. Peter beckoned her over to him with his right index finger. She stiffly walked over to him, meeting his eyes with her own. "What's gotten into you, Braith?" he asked her. At first she kept her jaw clamped shut. "Braith?" Peter pushed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she finally said roughly and quickly. Peter lifted an eyebrow, knowing that she knew full well what he was talking about. But he was patient with her.

"Okay. I'm talking about your attitude. Why are you being a lot more…defensive than usual?"

"I have a right to be defensive, don't I?" she said, squeezing her lips together and thrusting her chin forward stubbornly.

"Defensive against what, Braith? No one is trying to offend you, and you're snapping at everyone. I want you to lay off and cut it out," Peter said firmly. Braith just kept her mouth closed, and blew some air through her nose in a rough fashion. "I mean it, Braith. Loose the tough attitude. Yes, we all know you're tough. You don't have to prove it to anyone. So stop it. Got that?" Braith was silent again, and then muttered, "Yes, captain."

"Dismissed," Peter said. She turned on her heel and was wriggling up her tunnel in a matter of seconds. "Don't know what's with her," Peter said. I wasn't sure whether he was talking to himself, to me, or to both. But then he looked at me and said, "She always has that tough attitude about her, but she's not normally this defensive and snappy." I had nothing to say, so he just shrugged and forgot the matter. "So," he said, turning to me, "want to see the island?" I felt a tickle in my nose and the next second I sneezed, having no idea where it came from. Then I yawned.

"Guzundheit," I said to myself.

"What?" Peter asked.

"Uh, German for 'bless you'."

"Bless you?"

"It's what you…we, back on the Mainland say to someone when they sneeze," I tried to explain. Peter looked confused.

"Why?" I opened my mouth, and then shut it, pausing to think.

"I…don't know…" Now I looked confused. Peter smiled.

"Well, uh, guzundheit, then. At least it doesn't sound as strange as bless you," he chuckled. I laughed.

"Sure, okay!"

"Well, come one, and I'll show ya around!" He took my hand and started to pull me.

"Wait. Peter, where am I going to sleep?" He stopped.

"I hadn't thought of that. Um…well, the Lost Boys all sleep in that bed," he said, pointing at the large bed in the room.

"Including Braith?"

"Hah! Yea, she'd never stand to be treated differently from the boys!"

"Well…I'm not really comfortable sleeping in the same bed with them, Peter."

"I don't blame you. They tend to kick and talk in their sleep. I have my own room, but I don't normally allow anyone else in there. Although Tinker Bell kind of comes in there anyway."

"Well, what are my options?"

"Uh…you could use some furs and make a bed for yourself on the floor," he suggested. Sleeping on the floor wasn't so appealing either, but it was better than squashing myself in with the Lost Boys. I shrugged a shoulder, and Peter seemed to catch my drift. "It'll only be for the first night or two," he assured me. He went in to his room and remerged with some furs and tossed them to me. I laid them on the floor and lay down to see if it was comfortable at all. It was soft and acceptable. I sat up and looked up at Peter.

"It'll do," I told him. He nodded and pulled me to my feet, but suddenly, everything around me went red and my knees buckled. I collapsed, my eyes closing as Peter caught me under my arms and held me up.

"Rebecca! What's the matter with you?"

"It's…nothing," I said, holding my forehead and shaking my head from side to side, trying to get rid of the sensation. "I just stood up too fast. Don't worry about it." I straightened and smiled at him to show him I was all right.

"Well, all right then, let's go!"

"Actually, Peter, I'm exhausted. Do ya mind if I get some sleep?" I really was beat, seeing as we had been flying all night. My eyelids were heavy, and I yawned as if to prove my point. Peter looked disappointed for a second, but quickly smiled again.

"Yea, sure, go ahead. I'm not gonna stick around, though, so you might be alone for a while."

"That's fine. Whatever. I just need some sleep really badly," I said softly, retreating to the skins on the floor again.

"Hey, Rebecca. Why don't you sleep on the bed for now? The Lost Boys won't be going to bed for a while, trust me," Peter said, chuckling. Without hesitation, I crawled under the covers on the bed, which was surprisingly soft, and barely had I said, "Okay, thanks Peter," when I was out.

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**And there you have it. Please no flames, but REVIEWS, as always, are MUCH appreciated!!!! THANK YOU:D**


	10. Chapter Ten: A Fencing Challenge

**About time I updated, right? Heh, sorry about the wait...I've been quite distracted. It's amazing how busy you can keep yourself even on a vacation...Anyway, hope you enjoy!!! This chapter is certainly one of the longer ones, so I hope my fans are satisfied with the length this time!!! Right...here we go... **

** Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, Tinker Bell, or any of the original story. I only own Rebecca and anyone/thing else you don't recognize.  
**

**Chapter Ten: A Fencing Challenge **

I awoke with a start to a harsh kick in my back. I cried out, felt another hard kick in the back, and I fell off the bed.

"_What_ do you think you're doing?" an angry voice demanded. I twisted around to see a furious Braith standing on the bed.

"Um, well, I _was_ sleeping and not doing anybody else any harm-" I started, only to be cut off.

"You're doing _me_ harm," she retorted and jumped off of the bed, causing me to wince when she landed right next to my face on the floor with a thud. I sat up and looked up at her.

"Yeah?" This girl was really starting to get on my nerves. "How am I doing you harm, Braith? What have I done to hurt you?" I said this last line in an overly dramatic fashion, purposely making it quite blatantly sarcastic. I even put the back of my hand to my forehead in a mocking manner. Of course, she only became angrier. Smart move on my part, really.

"How have you done me harm? By being here," she said through gritted teeth. I cocked up an eyebrow in confusion and looked up at her. "Don't play innocent with me, whatever your name is. I've already forgotten because it's that insignificant. Look, Peter Pan might like you, but I _don't_."

"Yeah, you made that pretty clear, all right," I muttered. Braith's face twisted menacingly.

"It is _not_ okay with me for you to be here, and if it's not okay with me, then it's not okay at all. Got that?" Now I was getting angry. Who did this girl think she was? Queen around here? I got to my feet.

"Gee, Braith, I didn't know that you were the leader around here. I thought the captain was Peter Pan." She shoved me down on to the bed.

"_Watch_ it. You don't want to mess with me, girl."

"The name is Rebecca, you remember that, and just what about me bothers you so much? Tell me, what specifically am I doing that is driving you up the wall?"

"_I'm_ second in command to Peter. That is _not_ going to change, so don't even start to think about taking my place because it _won't happen_. Peter might like you, but he can't protect you from everything. Just stay out of my way." She turned and briskly started to exit. And then she turned back to me. "And _get out_ of my bed!"

"Oh, but Braith, I thought this was the Lost Boys' bed, a _shared_ bed. Unless you're so brainless that you need a lesson on the word, 'share,' I think you understand." I lay back down, but she started toward me.

"_Don't_ mess with me," she whispered dangerously. "Get out of that bed." Okay, I've got to admit, even though she was a good few years younger than I, that action freaked me out just a tad. That and the fact that she happened to be pretty much my size, not just in height, but in body, if not even stronger than I, and she was a girl who was obviously used to fighting and knew how to do so against a group of boys and probably pirates, too. I felt like such a coward, but I was not about to fight this gal. I reluctantly got up, knowing full well that I was submitting to a bully, and lay back down on the furs on the ground. I looked at her, waiting for her to do something. She just brought her eyebrows up and down again in a fashion that clearly meant something along the lines of, "That's right, that's what I thought. I'm the boss and you will listen to me." I wanted to punch her, but I just moved my jaw to the side and returned the eyebrow movement. There was a momentary tense silence, and then she left.

The next time I woke up, it was quiet and dark. The soft sleeping breaths of other youths floated to my ears, and I knew I must have awoken in the middle of the night. I looked to the fireplace to see soft embers burning low. I groaned, sat up, stretched my arms, and rose to my feet. I couldn't really see anything, so I tiptoed with my hands stretched out in front of me. I knocked into the corner of something hard, but it didn't make a sound. I felt the object cautiously, to discover that it felt like a large wooden chair with ornate carvings.

"Must be Peter's chair," I whispered. I stumbled around it, blindly feeling for the walls of the underground domain, when my left hand slipped forward and eventually landed on a soft material, like an animal fur. The material pushed forward, and I drew my hand to its side, feeling its edge. Skimming my hand over to the other side, I gathered that this was the curtain that led to Peter's room. Not wanting to go in there, I moved on along the wall until my hand felt something cold and tiny, leaf-shaped. "Another curtain?" I asked the darkness in a whisper. It was blocking a small hole. "Oh. This is probably Tinker Bell's room. Don't want to intrude there either." Feeling past that, I eventually came to accidentally push into a tunnel with my knee, but it happened to be what I was looking for anyway. I crawled into the tunnel and started to try to wriggle up. It was a tight fit, and I was having quite the hard time moving at all. "Must be the tunnel of one of the littler boys," I mused, trying again and again to squeeze my way up. It was no use. "Great. I'm stuck," I grumbled in annoyance. "Now what?"

"Yeah, there's a good chance that you'll get stuck in Lymay's tunnel," a deeper voice said softly, scaring the living begebis out of me. I knocked my head back hard against the dirt wall of the tunnel.

"Owe," I hissed in pain. I couldn't even reach a hand up to rub my head. "Great, another head bump in the same spot," I complained, remembering how I had bumped my head on my bookshelf earlier. I heard a soft chuckling noise.

"Sorry," the voice said. "Didn't mean to scare you, Rebecca."

"Peter?" I asked. At least, I assumed the voice belonged to Peter.

"Yeah?"

"Okay, it _is_ you," I clarified to myself. He chuckled again.

"Yep, it's me."

"Well, can I get a little help here, please? I can't move."

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'm just finding it funny that you chose Lymay's tunnel of all tunnels to try to get out," he laughed, grabbing my ankles and yanking me down.

"Well, how was I supposed to know? It's too dark to see anything!" I crashed down and smashed into Peter on my way to the awaiting cushions, knocking him over and landing on top of him. Embarrassed, I quickly rolled off of him (though I couldn't help but enjoy the feeling I got every time I touched him) and sat up.

"It's not too dark when you have a lantern," he stated, sitting upright and illuminating his face with the lantern he held. I must say that his face looked a little…well, freaky in a mischievous way when only his chin was bright, his eyes fading into the shadows cast by the light. I pressed my eyebrows down and my lips together in a scowl at his advantage with that lantern, causing him to laugh again. "So, what are you doing up anyway?" he asked.

"I just woke up. Wanted to get some air, I guess. Oh, I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Yeah, ya did. But it's okay," he added quickly in response to my apologetic look. "I wake up to the littlest movements. It's necessary when there are pirates and bears and whatnot around, ready to attack."

"Makes sense," I nodded, not feeling so guilty anymore.

"I wake up the quickest around here, being the captain and all."

"Yeah, I can understand that."

"Well, now that we're both up, are you still interested in getting that fresh air?" he asked me.

"Sure am," I said, nodding my head. He nodded back and took my hand.

"Come with me." He pulled me to a different tunnel, released my hand, and crawled inside, lantern and all. I followed him into the dark tunnel and began to wriggle my way up, which was so much easier this time around! I heard the mushroom above us start to slide back, and dirt fell into my face as Peter climbed out of the tunnel to the ground on top. I continued to wriggle up, naturally feeling very much like a worm, and then my hand gripped the top edge.

I pulled myself up and Peter grabbed my hands and pulled me the rest of the way out until I was on my feet, while he was floating in the air. I looked around me to find the dense forest seeming to glow in the moonlight. Silver flashed off of each leaf, making the foliage shimmer. Here and there were little balls of light, and I tried to decipher between fireflies and fairies. My eyes darted up to the moon and I was taken aback by its brightness. I had never seen so big and white-silver a moon, nor had I ever actually been able to be guided by its light through any forest or place before. The stars, too, were just brilliant. The ebony sky sparkled like it was a diamond in itself; there were so many stars. And they even seemed to laugh at us as they twinkled…

"Amazing. This is what happens when there's no light pollution, or very little of it, I suppose," I whispered to myself.

"Light pollution?" Peter asked me, confused.

"It's when there is so much artificial light that it blocks out the stars," I explained.

"What's artificial?"

"Oh, uh, man-made. Unnatural."

"Huh. You won't find too much of that sort of light around here," Peter commented.

"Peter, what's the most beautiful spot at night in Neverland?" I wanted to know.

"Oh, don't ask me. I don't know. Everyone has their own opinions on that, and I think it depends on what you're looking for. But, I can show you one of _my_ favorite spots. Would you like me to do that?"

"Oh, yes Peter!" I exclaimed excitedly, clapping my hands. I stopped abruptly, surprised at how little I was acting, while thinking, 'I'm being such a girl!' But Peter just laughed.

"Rebecca, it's okay! You're in Neverland now! You're aloud to be a little kid! That's the best part about Neverland! You never grow old!" Reassured by these words, I smiled in childish glee, feeling like I was five years old again.

"Take me to your spot, Peter, please!" And my hand was enveloped in his and I was pulled into the sky. Oh, the lovely sensations of flying, feeling unlimited! The song, "Defying Gravity" from Wicked came into my head and I couldn't help singing some of it, but not before doing something that I knew only Peter Pan did. "_I've gotta crow! Er-er-er-ER_!" I sang from the musical version of Peter Pan. "_I'm just the cleverest fellow t'was ever my fortune to know_!" And I crowed again, beating my chest in the air. "_Er-er-er-er_!" Surprisingly, I suddenly had no respect for the sleeping creatures of Neverland, and so I hadn't a care about how loud I was being.

"Hey! You're singing about me, Rebecca! _I'm_ the 'cleverest fellow t'was ever my fortune to know!' And you're not even a fellow. You're a girl! And _I'm_ the one who does the crowing around here!" Peter laughed, giving me a very gentle push, and then beating his own chest and crowing. I had to admit, of course, that no one could ever crow quite like the great Peter Pan! I continued to sing that song while flipping several times in the air.

"Huh, neat song," Peter commented.

"It is from the musical performance, Peter Pan."

"There's a musical performance about me?"

"Oh yes. And there's even a puppet show, a play, a book, many movies…yep!"

"Movies? What's movies?" I shook my head.

"Never mind," I said, not knowing how to explain movies.

"Sing me another song, then."

"All right. _I know a place where dreams are born and time is never planned. It's not on any chart. You must find it with your heart. Never Neverland_!" Peter laughed.

"It's so true too! Do ya know any other cool songs?" I nodded. I had been dying to sing "Defying Gravity." I sang the first few lines of lyrics before I suddenly stopped, embarrassed.

"You're pretty good," Peter told me.

"I've been in voice training for the past five years," I explained, blushing.

"Voice training?"

"Uh…I have a teacher who teaches me how to sing well."

"Eh…teach? Like school?" Peter asked with a look of disgust.

"No, no, no! Teaching like having fun while you're showing someone how to do something right. Like you teaching me to fly," I said quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

"Well in that case, how do you sing like that?"

"You want me to try to show you how?"

"Yea, sure, why not?"

"Okay, then!" I was excited. I always loved to give singing tips. "Well, first you start by breathing in deeply and expanding your rib cage, like this." I demonstrated. "Here, put your hands on my ribs and you'll see…well, _feel_ what I mean." Peter came up behind me and gently placed his hands on the sides of my ribs. I inhaled and my ribs expanded widely all around.

"All right, now what?" Peter asked.

"Now you try," I told him. He breathed and expanded his ribs fairly well. "Good. Now let some sound out."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

"Why?"

"I just wanted to know how it's done. I didn't actually want to sing."

"Have you ever sung before, Peter?"

"Um, probably. I don't know."

"Well, sing now!" He shook his head no. "Come on! Please? Don't be afraid to sing in front of me, or ever for that matter!"

"Hold it, now! I am _not_ afraid!" he defended himself, apparently offended by the accusation. "I just don't want to sing!" I frowned, noting how he scowled, looking ahead and crossing his arms. I supposed he really didn't want to sing, and I was not about to push him to do it. I did not want Peter Pan to be cross with me, now or ever.

"All right, no problem." Silence followed, but Peter was not one to take silence for too long.

"Okay, let's go to that spot I was talking about. C'mon." He took my hand and we were flying over the beautifully lit, yet dark forest. Before I knew it, we were descending upon the cliffs of Mermaid's Lagoon. "Anywhere in Mermaid's Lagoon is fun, and pretty day and night," Peter told me.

"Indeed. It's close to where I landed before I found you again today," I said.

"Ah. Well, why don't you have a look around you?" I obliged him and observed the mystical surroundings. The moon was shining upon the water, the sea rippling underneath a deluge of purely silver light, leaving the dark surrounding water to look ominous…I wanted to dive into it. I looked at Skull Rock. 'Cowering. Wait, cowering? Not the right word! More like glowering in, well, what _is_ the word? Glowering in trepidation? What?! Trepidation means fear, Rebecca!' Now I was rambling in my thoughts. While I contemplated a fine description of the menacing Skull Rock to write into my journal later, Peter floated down over the high, sharp cliffs to the rocks below, which looked like they were floating in the lagoon. I followed him, having finally decided on a good description for Skull Rock ('glowering in a threatening manner') when I heard it. Soft at first. I had to really listen to hear it, but then it became louder and I heard quiet singing sounds.

"Beautiful," I whispered as I landed at Peter's side on one of the rocks. "What is that? It sounds like singing, but not human voices."

"You're right about that. It isn't human voices. That would be the mermaids singing under the water," Peter informed me.

"Oh!" I said excitedly. I bent down on the rock, noticing my shimmering, rippling reflection in the clear water, and then listening closer. There were no words that I could hear in the singing, but it was like…nothing I had ever heard before. Ever. I stayed there on my hands and knees, still looking over the edge of the rock, perhaps hoping to see a mermaid. Their song continued. It was what a rainbow would sound like if it sounded like anything. It was a mix of all melodies, harmonized and combined perfectly, flowing along in liquid notes of perfection and every fathomable color.

"You really like singing, don't you?" Peter asked me, stirring me out of my thoughts.

"What? Oh, of course! I love singing! Hearing it and doing it," I agreed.

"Well, maybe you ought to sing for the Lost Boys," Peter suggested. "I like your singing. They all might like it, too. I don't see why not."

"Well…I'm not sure Braith would appreciate that sort of thing," I said reluctantly, as I would have loved to sing to them if it were not for Braith and her attitude.

"Hey, don't worry about Braith. She's just…I don't know what's with her…she's…just being Braith. Don't be afraid of her, 'cause there's really nothing to fear." I considered telling him about my incident with her earlier, but I decided to leave it be and simply nodded instead.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Don't just guess! Know it! Know it well! You have _got_ to be tough and stick up for yourself around here. Otherwise, not only Braith and the boys, but everybody will walk all over you," Peter advised me.

"I thought the pirates walk all over you no matter what," I commented.

"That's the pirates. They're a whole different story. You're right. It is true that they walk all over everyone they can. But other than them, you can stop, say, Braith from walking all over you. All you have to do is show them that you have some backbone and will _not_ put up with any disrespect."

"You make it sound so easy, Peter. I have _never_ been one who is good at standing up for myself," I muttered. "Quite annoyingly inconvenient, but it's true all the same. I've had to put up with bullies all my life…I guess I'm just used to it."

"Well, you've got to try to learn to change that about yourself if you ever want to stop being a victim, and what better person to practice on than Braith?"

"Actually, Peter, I really don't want to engage her in any arguments. I just want to stay out of her way." Yes, I was submitting to her bullying, I knew, but I hated confrontations and I did not want to deal with one with her.

"Mm, I say confront her about something. Anything she does that bothers you. Don't just sit back and suck it up and deal with her. Don't be a coward!" 'But I _am_ a coward,' I thought. 'At least, I am when it comes to people stepping all over _me_. If it were someone else who was the victim, things would be different. That would make it easier to stand up to the bully.'

"I suppose I'll try," I said unconvincingly to both Peter and myself.

"Hey, I can't make you try, but I still can tell you that I think you should. Rebecca?"

"Hmmm?"

"There's something I need to talk to you about." Peter took on a serious tone and my ears perked up…or rather, my listening became more alert.

"What is it, Peter? I'm listening," I informed him.

"Good, 'cause it's really important. Rebecca, while you're here, you're bound to cross paths with pirates. It happens all of the time. There's just no way to avoid it," he started.

"I don't want to avoid it, Peter," I replied. He looked at me, a surprised expression on his face.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I am so looking forward to battling pirates!" I admitted enthusiastically, grinning. "I love the idea of crossing swords with some real buccaneers, as John said!" I quoted the Disney movie.

"Huh?" Peter was confused.

"John Darling? Never mind," I said in response to his blank look, waving a hand as if to erase my words.

"Well, in that case, you're gonna have twice the fun here," Peter told me with a smile. "Because I guarantee that you will cross swords with buccaneers. Many times." I gave him an excited toothy grin.

"Excellent." He chuckled.

"I like your enthusiasm. I have to admit you're surprising me. You're not the typical girl, you know. Heh, you remind me of Braith in that way. Wendy always needed protection. She was a real girly-girl. Not to mention incredibly frightened of sword combat, any combat really, and pirates!"

"Peter, you need not worry about that with me. I am _not_ scared and I am certainly no girly-girl!" I told him firmly, but with a smile.

"Well, you _are_ going to need to know how to fight with a sword," Peter warned me.

"I can do that. I have had some training in fencing."

"Oh have you? Are you any good?" Peter was looking mischievous now.

"Um, well, I hope so. I guess I don't really know how good I am, Peter."

"Well, then, would ya like to find out," he asked in a challenging manner, tapping the large dagger he wore on his belt.

"Sword fight with _you_?!" I exclaimed. I mean, I had had training and I was willing to sword fight, yes, but with the great Peter Pan of all opponents?!

"Sure." His voice was soft and cunning. I had started to hesitate, obviously, but he looked at me with that toothy evil smile of his, daring me to accept his challenge to a sword duel…just then I noticed that he did indeed still have all of his baby teeth. I wondered how that had happened when he appeared to be around 15 or 16 years of age. The baby teeth were really cute…ah, with Peter Pan's look, that wicked grin of his! How could I possibly resist a challenge?!

"But, Peter," I said in that same soft cunning fashion. "I don't have a sword." I smiled, excited myself, letting him know I was accepting his challenge to the sword duel.

"Tomorrow, then. Bright and early. We'll get you a sword." He held out his hand with an awesome devilish grin, and we shook on it.

"Tomorrow," I said.

"So be it," he replied, sealing the deal. We flew back to the hideout to get some sleep. Now my stomach was beginning to knot up and jump around about the coming sword duel with the amazing Peter Pan. And what a duel it would be.

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**There you have it!!!! Please, leave reviews (no flames)...THANK YOU:D**


	11. Chapter Eleven: Sword Duels

**Wow...I feel really bad about the delay with this chapter. It's been sorta finished for a while, meaning I've been editing it repeatedly and now I'm forcing myself to post it before I edit it again. So...after all of that revision, I REALLY hope you all enjoy it!!!! And thank you soooo much for the great reviews, as they really keep me happy and motivated. I'll update again ASAP. One other thing, please go back and re-read certain parts of chapter seven, as I took into account what one or more reviews said and I changed it a little...and by a little, I mean subtle changes that have affected a good portion of the plot. I basically changed the part with the cannon balls and then when Rebecca and Peter are talking while they run to the hideout. Okay, so here goes... **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, Tinker Bell, or any of the original story. I do own Rebecca and anyone/thing else you don't recognize.  
**

**Chapter Eleven: Sword Duels **

The next morning, I groggily forced my eyes open as someone gently shook my shoulders. I groaned, trying to pull free and roll over to go back to sleep.

"Rebecca. It's morning, and we've got a duel ahead of us," a soft masculine voice said.

"Mm, later, Peter. Me sleep now," I mumbled, attempting again to twist out of his grasp and return to the world of dreams.

"Come on. Don't make me pour water on you," he said.

"You wouldn't do that. You're too nice," I replied, not giving a second thought to his threat.

"Oh really?" he challenged. I was too sleepy to pay the challenge in his voice any mind, and I felt myself being released. In an instant, I twisted over and was asleep, dreaming of my fencing class back at college and somehow defeating my coach-slash-teacher-slash friend, Joe, who had been an Olympic fencer. Beat him? Yeah, right! In my dreams!

All of a sudden, I felt my head and upper torso being drenched in freezing water. I screeched and leapt to my feet. The culprit, Peter, stood in front of me, a wooden bucket in hand, and a naughty smile on his face. "Do I recall you saying that I'm too nice?" he asked obnoxiously.

"PETER!" I screamed, lunging at him in an attempt to pounce on him. He lifted himself into the air and I fell forward, landing on my hands and knees. I growled.

"Come on," he said, giving me a hand up. "Save the lunging for the duel."

"You are not the boss of me, Peter Pan," I said petulantly.

"Around here I am. I'm the captain, remember? What I say goes," he replied simply. I groaned, shaking water out of my hair and on to him. "Hey!" he laughed, backing away.

"Now I need to change. Thanks for drenching me first thing in the morning," I said, shivering. He grinned wickedly and wiped some water droplets off of his forehead.

"Touché. Come on. We've got to get you a sword." With that he rushed behind the curtain to his room and I glimpsed a pile of swords inside before the curtain flapped shut again. "I like fighting with a dagger. But the other boys sometimes use swords, and they store them in my room. So, let me see what I can find for you." While I stood there in the dim light that was sneaking in through the various tunnels, I heard steel clanking against steel, and then he re-appeared holding a couple of swords. He held them up to me for size and chose one that came up a little past my waist. I took it and held it out in front of me. The steel blade was scratched, but still shiny, and the hilt was wrapped in a vine, perhaps for grip. Between the blade and hilt was a gray hilt, filled with moss to make it softer. I felt the blade, drawing some blood from my finger in the process.

"Owe!" I gasped, feeling foolish as red salty liquid plumed upon my skin.

"Oh, careful there, she's a sharp one. They all are," Peter warned. I heard a laugh behind me and I turned around to face the room. I was surprised to find the Lost Boys waiting for us. They were lined up and waiting quietly, Braith chuckling under her breath at my folly with the sword. Peter gave them a nod of his head and they all cried out and scattered up their holes. Braith was the only one who was not being very enthusiastic. She just walked up to her tunnel and began to wriggle upwards, frowning. I snatched up my bag, which I had deposited near my makeshift bed, and dumped its contents onto the floor. I half-slipped my feet into a pair of sandals and followed Peter, wriggling up his tunnel after him. He had already taken to the air when I reached the top, and I struggled out in the last few seconds before the mushroom closed off the hole.

After pausing and hopping to pull the backs of my sandals over my heels, I leaped into the air, and then fell as I was not completely comfortable flying yet. Once I had successfully skinned both knees in my landing, I tried again, flapping my arms awkwardly, as my right hand held the sword. Several seconds later I had managed to succeed, but by the time I was above the treetops, Peter was far ahead of me and dropped into the trees again. I tried to follow him, but the forest was so dense that I had very little idea of where he had gone. As I searched, peering as far as I could into the forest, I could hear a cry of excitement from the Lost Boys underneath me as they ran through the foliage. I was about to descend to join them in running to wherever we were going when a sudden arrow shot through the trees, headed straight for me.

I gasped in terror, curling up into a ball to shield myself, but I was not hit because I fell right out of the sky, my happy thoughts extinguished. Before I knew what was happening, I had crashed through the top tree branches and was headed for the ground. I tensed up in preparation for a crash landing, thinking, 'This is gonna hurt.' I watched the ground momentarily and then quickly squeezed my eyes shut as it came up to meet me…and suddenly I smashed upon someone who yelped and fell under me. My eyes opened and there was a blurred whirl of tumbling amongst pain signaling the birth of new bruises.

When at last the someone and I came to a halt, I blinked and slowly uncovered my head to find none other than Braith, lying under me and moaning softly. Then I noticed a long, smoothed wooden rod under her shoulder with a twine string trailing from its tip. Braith looked at me and as she began to focus her eyes widened. I was shoved off as she scrambled to her feet. I sat there, bruised but okay, looking up at her and getting a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. We were both silent as we recovered our thoughts. I looked down at my still wet white t-shirt, now stained brown from the dirt it had collected during the tumble. Although it was silly, I instantly tried to brush it off, gave up, and then looked up to watch Braith stoop to pick up her rod. She groaned in frustration as she fiddled with the string…wait, there were strings on both ends of the rod, and their tips were tattered. 'A bow,' I realized. That's when I spotted the scattered arrows lying behind her, their quiver lying astray and empty. Yes, she had done it, and she knew that I knew. There was nothing to be said. We both looked behind me as Peter emerged out of the greenery, calling us.

"There you are!" he said with a smile. Neither of us returned the smile; instead, we simultaneously looked at the ground. Even if we hadn't done that, a person would've had to be really stupid not to feel the tension between us. Peter stopped in his tracks and looked from me to Braith and back to me. "What happened here?" he asked, taking on a serious tone. I didn't answer and neither did Braith. "Rebecca? Braith?" Peter kept looking from one of us to the other. "Someone want to tell me what's going on?" I felt Braith's eyes pressuring me. She was waiting for me to speak, to tell Peter what she had attempted to do. 'I am no coward, Braith. You have crossed a line. If this is how you want it to be, so be it,' I thought with conviction, and turned to Peter.

"Nothing's going on, Peter. I only fell is all," I said.

"Out of the sky?" he asked, instantly concerned.

"Yeah, but I'm fine." 'At least that part is true…physically,' I thought. "J-just some bruises. Honest."

"How'd that happen?" he pressed.

"Um, I don't know. I…guess I just lost my concentration on flying." Peter looked very confused as he pushed one eyebrow down and cocked the other one into an upward arch. He seemed to be trying to decide how someone lost 'concentration on flying,' when all that's needed is a happy thought once you have the faith, trust, and pixie dust.

"What about Braith?" he asked, turning his eyes to her. She opened her mouth, but didn't speak. Her eyes said everything: panic. She knew what consequences could come her way should Peter find out the whole truth.

"She broke my fall. I sorta landed on her," I explained. Peter was quiet for a moment, but he soon lifted his eyebrows and smiled.

"Nicely done, Braith. You may have saved her life," Peter said, patting her shoulder. I shivered with anger, watching her face go blank and then smile back at him. A large smile. "You oughtta thank her, Rebecca," Peter pointed out to me.

"THANK HER?! Peter, she just tried to _kill_ me. She shot one of her arrows, aimed at me, and it missed me because I lost my happy thoughts and fell. I landed on her by _chance_. But, for goodness sake, she nearly murdered me!" I was on my feet, screaming in fury, and Peter's face was churning with emotion, from complete shock and disbelief to rage. Braith was getting red in the face, tensing up in preparation for Peter's reaction, and staring at her feet to avoid his gaze. He slowly turned to her and if looks could kill…

Okay, that's what I imagined happening. In actuality it was all I could do to keep from exploding at him with the truth, but by some means I maintained my composure.

"Thank you, Braith, for saving my life," I managed to say without faltering, sounding sincere enough even to my own ears. I pressed my lips together in a forced 'thankful' grin, feeling the tension escalate. I wondered how Peter could be so oblivious to the newly rising tension, or maybe Braith and I were just that good at acting. Braith smiled at me now, and said, "You're very welcome," sweet as could be, causing me to be sick to my stomach. I clenched my jaw and tightened my abdomen and toes (for some reason, tightening my toes always seemed to help a sick stomach). This was all in an effort to keep myself under control, because if I hadn't known any better, I would have sworn she had actually _meant_ that I was 'welcome'.

"Well, come on then! We've got a duel ahead of us!" Peter said energetically, cutting into my thoughts. He took Braith's hand and turned to leave. Braith and I looked at their entwined hands, and then we shared another look and she smiled at me, doing her eyebrow thing again, before completely giving herself over to running after Peter. I slowly got to my feet, grimacing as pain erupted all along my right side, which had gotten the brunt of the crash with Braith. I finally noticed my sword, nearly upright with the blade in the ground. I thought for a moment, but I couldn't recall when I had dropped it. Shrugging, I grabbed the hilt and yanked it free. Biting down against the pain, I ran after Peter and Braith in a limp and shortly thereafter, we emerged from the dark greenery into the sun again. A large clearing sprawled out in front of us.

I recognized it as the same clearing in which Indians had ambushed John, Michael, and the Lost Boys in the Disney movie. Even the footprints from an Indian were still there, large and brown from dirty feet in the white sand. Peter was air-born and he skimmed upon the ground with Braith trotting in close pursuit; I thumped on to it after her. Soon the Lost Boys startled me by darting out of the woods and surrounding us. Peter and Braith didn't seem startled in the least by this; I supposed that they were used to it, but I jumped a bit with a yelp and then air hissed through my teeth; my side was smarting again. Everyone laughed at my reaction, causing me to blush and focus on the ground. This day was not exactly going my way yet.

"Peter, I didn't know we were giving them a show," I finally mumbled.

"Oh, they love watching me sword fight. Everyone does!" he told me. I shrugged. I never really minded audiences anyway, until now. I mean, come on, here was I, in pain, and about to get my rump kicked by Peter Pan in a sword duel…not really something I wanted everyone to see. "Rebecca, you said you've had some fencing experience. How much?" Peter asked me as he tossed his dagger and caught it absentmindedly, taking me away from my pessimistic thoughts. Actually, my pulse was rising and I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate. Panic was setting in with the question of how the bloody heck I was going to do this! He sheathed it again and looked at me, waiting for an answer.

"About a semester's worth," I replied. Peter gave me an odd look; he obviously had no idea what a semester was, so I gave him a different answer. "Well, I know how to salute the opponent properly, and I know a few things about parries, lunges, attacks, retreating, and advancing," I barely told him before he spoke again, not wanting to hear my long list.

"Well, let's see just how good you are," he said smiling, and drew his dagger. My arms chose to tense up on me and my mind raced. 'What am I thinking?! About to enter a sword duel with PETER PAN!' I thought, wetting my lips as I watched that shiny dagger of his. I did have the huge plus of having a sword, but it was hardly an advantage against this particularly skilled opponent, and me with my mere semester's training.

"Peter…uh…I…shouldn't we warm up first?" I shakily suggested, trying to stall.

"Warm up? I'm plenty warm," he said, confused.

"No…warm up as in do exercises to ready our bodies physically for combat," I explained, a little desperately.

"Nah, I don't want to do that. Takes too long."

"But, Peter…warming up is important in a sport…and-"

"You're stalling, Rebecca," he accused. 'Darn it! He caught me!' I mentally yelled at myself. 'But, really, stalling or not, warming up is important,' I reminded myself. I was about to tell him that…only he spoke first. "Hey, if you don't want to do this…" he trailed off. I nearly accepted the offer, until he said, "…that is, if you're too…" he paused for a dramatic affect, "…_scared_?" He said it like a statement and a question at the same time, a mocking look on his face. As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, Braith snickered and rolled her eyes, muttering, "She's probably afraid of breaking a nail," just as I was about to yell at Peter. I studied the nails on my left hand for a second, raising an eyebrow at their grimy peeled condition, seeing as how I picked at them so much. 'Scared of breaking these beautiful nails of mine, huh,' I thought sarcastically. With that, I hardened my mouth determinedly, and looked sharply at Braith and then back at Peter, staring him straight in the eyes.

"Me? Scared? You're kidding, right? Are we flying at the same time, Peter Pan?" I asked in an obnoxious manner, trying to hide my nervousness. Scared? Maybe a little…sorta…kinda? Peter grinned like a devil.

"If you wish it," he whispered. Still trying to hold that semi-obnoxious confident manner, I answered.

"Eh…I don't wish it…quite yet. I'm still just a beginner."

"So mote it be," Peter said, and I got a grip on my sword in my right hand and then stood with my feet in the perpendicular starting position, heel to heel, to salute my opponent. I started with my weapon in a diagonal, pointing at the ground. Then I raised my sword with my right arm and pointed it straight out in front me, with my left arm held down at my side. I brought the sword up so that my right arm was bent in a right angle and the hilt was in front of my nose. Next, I straightened my arm in front of me again, and then I gave it a mighty swish up to my left and then down to my right, the finish to a proper salute. However, I must admit that I was thrown off balance when I did this, for I was used to dueling with foils, which have very pliant blades. This was an actual sword. It was heavier and did not bend as much in the blade, so I stumbled a little. Peter laughed. He had done a much better salute than I had, surprise, surprise.

"It's been a while since I've saluted an opponent. Hook was never respectful like that," Peter commented. I answered with an, "Mm," stood tall again, and took the _on guard_ position, softly saying, "On guard," in as threatening a manner as I could muster in all my stress. My feet were still perpendicular, but now I spread them apart, and my knees were bent into right angles directly over my toes. My left arm sat in the air behind me, and my right arm was bent out by my side and ready. My hand was already becoming sweaty around the hilt. Peter lowered into the _on guard_ stance as well, and for a brief period we just stared at each other, my eyes determined and nervous, his eyes laughing as usual and ready for fun. "Lymay, give the signal," Peter commanded and the boy nodded.

"Go!" he yelled. At first both of us just remained still. I wasn't really sure what to do, how to start, but I ended up sucking in a sharp breath and making the first move, advancing on Peter. He retreated a couple of steps, and I increased my speed and lunged, throwing my left arm straight out in back of me, pushing off of my left leg and straightening it behind me, and thrusting my right arm straight and forward. Peter easily parried the attack by moving his dagger to his left and catching my sword, knocking it aside. Before I knew it, he had lunged back at me and skillfully lightly touched me in the center of my chest with the tip of his dagger. I hadn't even given a thought to safety with touches and I was frankly relieved that he had thought about it.

Nevertheless, I gasped and winced in surprise and fear, feeling the tip of the blade lightly graze my shirtfront. He was _fast_! Faster than any other opponent I had faced thus far, but I should have expected that. As I looked wide-eyed at the sharp dagger, Peter suddenly brought it up and lifted my chin with it, shutting my gaping mouth for me. I stared at him with raised eyebrows and frightened eyes and he laughed.

"Do you honestly think that I'd hurt you?" he asked, making the notion sound absolutely absurd.

"Uh…" I replied. "I guess not." In all honesty, I wasn't all that sure.

"Well, you can trust me, Rebecca. I won't hurt you," he told me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Peter wouldn't hurt any of us, Beck," a voice from the boys said. I looked to my left and saw that it was Lymay who had spoken. He grinned at me. "I _can_ call you 'Beck,' right?" I smiled and nodded. "Well, Beck, you would have to do something _really_ bad for Peter to want to hurt you," he assured me. "Right, Peter?" He looked at Peter with the cutest innocent eyes and I could hardly repress an "Aw!" Peter grinned at the boy.

"Right, Lymay," he said with a chuckle. "And I don't think that Rebecca would do something _really_ bad…would you?" Peter turned to me with a smile and a wink and made me laugh.

"'Course not, Peter!" I giggled. Again, I overheard an obnoxious imitation from Braith. "Unlike _some_ people I know," I remarked, shooting a glance in her direction. Our eyes met for a moment, and I cleared my throat uncomfortably.

"Like who, Beck?" Catch asked. I had looked away from Braith before anyone noticed the strain between us, and thought quickly for a good reply.

"Like…like…" It hit me. "Like my little brother!" I chuckled to myself at the sudden thought. It was true. My brother was a junior in high school and very much a troublemaker…nasty, inconsiderate…I supposed he was the typical teenage brother.

"What did he do?" Catch asked excitedly. Was it time for a story already? 'Hah!' I thought to myself. 'When is it _not_ a good time for a story around here?' I knew right then that I was going to love this place. I mean, I had always known that, but it had been my life-long dream to publish my stories, thousands of them! And now I had finally found a group of boys who honestly not only welcomed stories, but also _loved_ them. A perfect Neverland family for me. That is, essentially, what they were to Peter, right? His band, his boys, his family…even though I knew from the book that Lost Boys, well, were killed by pirates or disbanded to grow up like they had with the Darling children, or broke away and vanished in other ways. New Lost Boys, and now a girl, were (I supposed) frequently recruited. Nevertheless, Peter did have a family with these kids, didn't he?

"Hey, Rebecca, are you interested in finishing this challenge before you tell us what your brother did?" Peter suddenly asked, adorable impatience riding in his voice.

"Huh?" I asked, shaking my head from my thoughts. "Yeah, let's get on with it then!" I picked up my sword, which I had dropped when Peter had made a touch. "On-guard, mate," I said, trying to sound like a pirate. Peter nearly fell back in the air laughing, and there were chortles from the Lost Boys.

"Right-o, lass!" he replied as the laughter died down, and hardly had Lymay said, "Fence!" when Peter lunged at me. Careful not to step out of the proper boundary lines for fencing, I shakily smashed my blade into his, bringing it to my left in a parry-four. Peter swiftly disengaged, sweeping his blade under the sword and lunging again, stopping once more just as the tip of his dagger touched my shirt. His stance was beautiful, in fencing terms. Right arm stretched out, hand holding dagger firmly, body in a diagonal pointing toward me, right leg bent with the knee directly over the toes, and left leg gracefully extended in the back. "Gotcha again," he smiled while I admired his position.

"Boy, I wish I could fence like you, Peter." I was grinning and shaking my head. He had such skill! Skill that I could never match; I was striving to achieve the unachievable. Who had I been kidding when I had taken that fencing course for a gym credit my previous semester? Sure, fencing was amazing and so much fun, but I had stupidly wanted to become like Peter Pan in my fencing skills. If there is anything impossible, that is it.

"Girl, no one can fence like Peter Pan," Braith scoffed at me, standing comfortably with her arms folded about her chest, smiling at Peter like he was…then again, he was like a god to them, and to me, really. Peter took the compliment with utter humbleness: he tossed his dagger, giving it a flip, caught it with boasting ease, and rose in the air, beating his chest and crowing.

"You are most modest, Peter Pan," I remarked as we watched him. He looked down at me, and landed in front of me, sweeping himself into a graceful bow so that he went down on one knee, holding my gaze.

"Would you rather me tell a lie, Rebecca? I can't help that I'm marvelous!" I snorted, now with my own arms folded, the sword tucked into my right fist.

"You snort at Peter Pan, you snort at all of us," Braith said. I looked at her as Peter stood.

"I didn't mean any offense by-"

"Didn't you? You don't mean any offense at all, eh? Just coming here and making yourself at home?" Braith started toward me.

"Braith, I-"

"And then go and sleep in my bed?"

"Braith," Peter tried.

"Braith, Peter told me-"

"And PETER! Challenge PETER PAN to a sword duel? Dare to think that you're a better fencer than he is?"

"What? I never-"

"Never respected him, or me?" She was nearly nose-to-nose with me now. I opened my mouth to try to speak again when her knife was suddenly at my throat, causing me to gulp. "And that's _my_ sword, by the way."

"BRAITH! JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" Peter yelled. He snatched her wrist, yanked the knife out of her hand, and tossed it over his shoulder. He still held her wrist, which she tried to wrench free.

"Peter…I can handle this," I said softly, but firmly. Peter's eyes were locked with Braith's, both glaring at each other, and then their heads snapped around to look at me. I nodded at Peter, confirming my statement, and then narrowed my eyes at Braith. "What do you want from me, Braith?"

"A duel," she whispered through gritted teeth.

"Then a duel you shall have," I hissed.

"To the death," she added. A gasp erupted from our audience.

"Braith, what's the matter with you?" Peter broke in.

"Eh, that's asking too much, gal," I said. Every eye was on Braith, and finally she shrugged, muttering, "Coward." I ignored the comment (which Peter must not have heard) and watched her retrieve her knife. "Braith, it's not a fair fight that you use a knife against a sword-"

"You saying I'm not good enough?" she challenged. I shrugged. Sure, Peter was good enough to do it…why not see what would happen with Braith?

"Okay, if you insist."

"I do." And without waiting for an 'on-guard' or any sort of signal to fence, she rushed at me, knife pointed at my chest. I went to parry the attack, caught off guard by the sudden start of the fight, and tried to be careful not to catch any of her skin with my sword. It ended up being a mock blow, and as I went to block it, Braith disengaged my defense and continued to lunge, nicking my chest as I jumped back. My damp t-shirt was now torn and I felt a mild sting. I looked down to see a hint of blood weaving through the cotton. She meant business.

A ripple of fear crept up my spine as I sucked in a breath and attacked my opponent. This is where my huge disadvantage came in to play. I have a horrible habit of getting very sloppy with my technique when I'm nervous, and wham! That nervousness settled in here. My hand, sweating around the hilt of my sword, shook with fatigue. I had started to sweat long ago, but now my face was getting heated with the intensity of only the beginning of the duel. Desperately trying to keep my technique, I brought my sword down on her knife, attempting to curve under it and head for her chest, hopefully knocking her knife from her hand. It didn't work.

Braith moved her knife out of the way and managed to smash it upon my sword, forcing it with pathetic ease from my hand's tired clutch. Right then, all other sounds were muffled from my eardrums. I only heard myself breathing heavily as Braith kicked my sword out of reach when I dove for it. If anyone was yelling for her to stop, I wasn't hearing them. I was just hoping she'd have the decency to stop fighting until I'd regained my weapon. She had won, fair and square. I was willing to accept that. But then I felt a kick in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. My face smashed into the ground, the sand burning my left cheek. I tried to breathe, unsuccessfully, and Braith pushed my right shoulder against the ground, straddling my stomach and lowering her knife to my throat again…I pushed her arm away, or tried to, but she was strong and I was exhausted, sweating, and unable to breathe. I helplessly watched the knife come down upon me when a large dagger came under it and stopped it.

The dagger brought it up and away from me, Braith fighting back, off-balance. Peter hovered in the air next to me, still pressing against her knife until she nearly fell off of me. She stumbled backwards, Peter in close pursuit. Cries of, "Peter! Peter, stop! Don't!" followed. His feet hit the ground and, ignoring the protests, he swung his dagger at her knife, forcing her back still. Out of breath as I was, I couldn't say anything, but I'm not sure I would have told him to stop, I was so angry with Braith. She was having trouble blocking his blows, and soon Peter and backed her into a tree. His dagger clashed into her knife and he pinned her against the bark, seething with anger, and holding his dagger still against her knife. Holding my stomach and gradually catching my breath, I leaned on an elbow, sitting up just enough to see the two under the shady tree.

Braith was the one breathing hard now, mouth agape, and for the first time, I saw fear in her eyes as she stared up at Peter. For a moment, all were silent. The Lost Boys and I watched, holding our breaths, as Peter and Braith stared at each other, irate eyes boring down upon timid eyes. No words were exchanged.

"Peter," I managed to wheeze, not being able to take another second of this awful silence. He hesitated, only moving his eyes to glance at me.

"_Not_ to the death, Braith," he growled through a clenched jaw.

"Now _that_ was _reeaaally_ bad," Lymay whispered to Dreep, who nodded. I would have laughed, had it been anything but completely inappropriate. That and I didn't have enough breath yet to laugh anyway. Just then, Peter released his hold against Braith, still glaring at her, and rushed to kneel at my side.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Mhm." It came out quieter than I had intended. In truth, I wasn't okay. My stomach ached from the kick, I was having a hard time breathing, and my side was sore from my fall earlier. "I-I'm fine," I grunted, attempting to sit all the way up. That didn't work, so I rolled over to my stomach and pushed myself up to a kneeling position. I felt Peter's hand on my shoulder and gave him a weak sideways smile. He turned in Braith's direction. She was slouched back against the tree, and when she caught his eyes, she straightened and walked away from the tree, a little towards us, but stopped at a distance. I had shifted myself around to look at her, and now we made eye contact. I'm not sure I've ever seen someone look at me with so much contempt, especially after what Peter said next:

"You'd better be glad that Rebecca isn't hurt badly." His voice was soft and…scary. I couldn't help but hope that he would never speak to me like that. "Get out of here." Braith turned and disappeared into the forest within seconds.

"Peter, she _is_ my twin," Lasher said in a small protest. Peter whipped around and glared at Lasher, daring him to say more.

"Want to follow her? Be my guest." Lasher waited a moment, and then took a step with a trembling foot. "Go," Peter said threateningly, cocking his head in the direction Braith had taken. Lasher looked at him skeptically, taking another slow step. "GO!" Peter shouted. His order was like the trigger that sends the bullet flying; Lasher took off, _fast_. Parting branches sounded in the boy's wake. Peter turned his eyes to the remaining boys, asking just by his look if anyone else cared to follow suit, but they all literally drew back, cringing. None of us knew what would happen with Braith, and now Lasher was risking punishment as well. 'All right,' I finally thought. 'Enough of this.'

"Uh…Peter?" My voice was shaky, and I cleared my throat. Everyone was looking at me. I can't say it wasn't odd. "Um…where, uh, can I get food?" I could almost hear the breaths of the boys being exhaled in relief as Peter finally smiled.

"Come on," he said, taking my hand and yanking me into the air. 'Happy thought…FOOD!' I thought to myself as I struggled to stay in the air. "Lost Boys, dismissed!" Peter announced, and at once the boys scattered. "How does fruit sound?" he asked me. I nodded, and he took off, pulling me with him.

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**I believe this chapter is just about my longest yet...and I have no idea how long chapter twelve will be. I'm a couple of pages into it right now...PLEASE REVIEW (no flames)!!!!!! THANK YOU:)  
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	12. Chapter Twelve: The Jolly Roger

**Hey readers, I AM SSSOOO SORRY ABOUT THE...UM...FOUR MONTH GAP BETWEEN THIS UPDATE AND THE LAST UPDATE!!!! It's been school, that's my excuse. No time whatsoever to work on my story!!!! Frustrating!!!! Plus, I've had this chapter written for a LONG TIME, but I didn't update because I wanted to finish writing the next chapter first, which I have. I want to be one chapter ahead of myself each time I update now, so...yeah. Anyway, I will be updating a LOT MORE now that SCHOOL'S DONE FOR THE YEAR!!!!! YAAAAY!!!! Okay, so here we go. I hope you enjoy!!!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nothing of Peter Pan. I only own anything/one you don't recognize. **

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Chapter Twelve: The Jolly Roger **

The sun was warm on my already hot, sweating body as I was tugged through the air. Peter showed no signs of fatigue from our duel, surprise, surprise, causing me to giggle to myself. As for me, I was exhausted as I always am after a good fencing match. For the time being, I just relaxed in the soft breeze, enjoying the sensation of my hair flowing freely behind me. Normally my side-swept bangs (I could never stand having them hanging across my forehead) would have kept moisture tucked into my hairline, but now, due to the wind, my forehead was comfortably dry and cooling down. My eyes scanned the forest, cliffs, and glittering waterfalls of the island as they passed beneath us, and then came up to observe the clear blue sky and finally rest on Peter. The morning sun illuminated his hair and washed it with gold, creating a radiant reddish copper. The red feather in his cap flicked in the wind, and I wondered, not for the first time, how that cap of his was staying on his head, withstanding the air current. His tunic was so very green, the green of the Neverland trees. Then again, it was made from those trees, wasn't it? I glanced at his left hand, gently holding my right hand. I was so content, until my stomach growled and I wished we'd get to food faster.

As if Peter had read my mind, the boy suddenly dipped down, tugging my arm, and I found that we were headed for the deck of that fearfully infamous ship that I had always wanted to explore, the Jolly Roger. Time to prank the pirates or something? What was going through his head? I opened my mouth and cried, "Peter! Wha…" I meant to protest against landing on the ship, but there was no time to say anything more. My heart thumped with adrenaline as Peter brought us upright again and we touched upon the wooden deck. I couldn't help gripping his hand in sudden panic and rapidly searching my surroundings, waiting for Captain James Hook to emerge. The day I met that brutal man face to face…

"Rebecca, it's safe," Peter said, chuckling at the way I was holding his hand. He pulled it free and crossed in front of me, seeming to be headed toward a cabin with small circular windows on my left. "I took over this ship long ago, when I brought Wendy and her brothers back home to London. You won't find pirates on it." I remembered that Lasher had shot cannonballs at us from this very ship the day before.

"But you said that there are pirates around, Peter."

"There are, here and there, but they're not _that_ common. I mean, I know I said you would have run-ins with pirates, but don't get me wrong. It's not like there's a whole crew waiting to attack you. Just a few scattered pirates here and there on the island."

"Oh," I said softly, a tad bit disappointed. I had been looking forward to battling lots and lots of pirates. Peter seemed to sense my small drop in excitement, and he turned around to look at me.

"Heh, don't worry, Rebecca. You'll get your chances to fight pirates. C'mon." He had opened the cabin door and he now held it ajar, like a gentleman, waving me in ahead of him. I smiled and trotted to the entrance, slowing as I entered a dim, dank room containing a piano, a desk with an old dirty map, a dining table, a bunk, and above all, a precarious feel to it that alerted one's senses; I shivered as goose bumps crawled up my arms. The cabin in which Hook had tricked Tinker Bell into telling him Peter's hiding place. Tink!

"Hey, Peter, where's Tinkerbell?" I asked. No answer. "Peter?" Still no answer. I turned to find him gone. "What the? Where is he?" I looked all around me…and no luck. "The ceiling?" I wondered aloud, glancing up to see no one. "Peter, come on, this isn't funny." This room was scary enough as it was…I felt so very…helpless, in grave peril in here. I supposed that Hook or no Hook, his essence of malevolence would always remain. It even smelled of human sweat and toil…slavery to a corrupt pirate captain. I had never thought such things could be recognized by scent. Maybe that's why smell is known as the strongest of the senses.

"Bad things have happened in here," I whispered to myself. The floor creaked behind me. I screamed and whirled around, my pulse racing.

"Hey! What are you screaming for? I told you, you've got nothing to fear!" Peter exclaimed humorously. His hands were held at either side of his face, palms exposed, in that position that generally means surrender, though he was obviously doing it to indicate that there was no need for me to be so scared.

"Peter!" I shrieked, still trembling. "Cripes…don't _do_ that!"

"What?" he laughed in mock ignorance.

"Sneak up on me like that, Pan!"

"But you knew I was behind yah," Peter chuckled. I opened my mouth to protest…and had no ammunition, and I groaned, making him laugh harder.

"That's besides the point," I muttered.

"No, that _is_ the point!" Peter retorted. I scowled at him and he continued to laugh.

"But you surprised me on purpose. You meant to scare me," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

"Aw, come on! You know it was funny!" I groaned, rolling my eyes.

"You are annoying sometimes, Peter," I muttered.

"Hey, being annoying can be fun," he grinned. Admittedly, I couldn't argue with that. All the times I had annoyed my siblings on purpose…well, some of them I had enjoyed anyway. Until I got into trouble, which tended to take the fun out of it. Suddenly realizing with a naughty grin that I could pester any of the Lost Boys here without getting in trouble for it (they might actually find it funny!), I pondered how fascinating it was that Peter and his boys took it for granted that they could taunt each other without getting punished. It was like a far away concept to me. Sure, my brother had gotten away with all sorts of things involving tormenting me, and it had always seemed that I never got away with anything…yet here, I could! I opened my mouth in a toothy smile at this revelation that was somehow incredibly significant to me, and then followed Peter further into the cabin, into a nook I had never seen before.

It was a little room off to the left, darker and damper with an environment that caused me to stop and take a breath to calm myself before I kept going. Peter was softly laughing at my reaction, which I can't say I appreciated, but I let him laugh anyway. There were no windows now, and the entrance provided very little light. The door clanged shut behind us, making me jump. Dark. Just dark. And suddenly I blinked as a lantern lit in front of my eyes.

"Like it in here?" Peter asked me in an obnoxiously creepy deep voice. I rolled my eyes and gently pushed his shoulder. He snorted and sought out an assortment of fruits that were piled together in crates along the wall. He tossed me a couple of bananas, and what looked like peaches. "Will that be enough for yah?" he asked while I caught them, fumbling to keep them all in my arms.

"Yep, these should be fine." I was anxious to get out of there!

"All right. Let's head back out then." I nodded and turned to darkness. Peter laughed again as I stumbled around blindly. "I'll lead the way." I had always found his habit of laughing at others to be childishly adorable, which is probably the only way I was able to brush off his rude behavior so easily. It's what to expect with Peter Pan, and I mean, what can you do? Punish him? Hah!

I felt him take my arm (as my hands were full) and pull me toward the door, blowing out the lantern and hanging it on a nail in the wall. Peter somehow found the door handle and we emerged into the light. Eager to get out of there, I made haste to leave that awful cabin, racing past Peter and onto the deck of the ship. Sounds of amusement trailed in my footsteps.

"That cabin really scares you, huh?" Peter chuckled as he followed me. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I'm not afraid of anything," I claimed, quoting a song that I loved.

"Sure, sure. There's only one person who's not afraid of anything, and that's me," Peter said proudly, resting his right fist on his hip and pointing at himself with his left thumb.

"Ah! You're obnoxious is what you are!" I retorted, plopping down to eat.

"Obnoxious? Me? No, I just tell the truth," Peter said, joining me. I tossed him a peach, which he caught and rolled from one arm to the other. I began to peel a banana. Taking a large bite, I leaned my elbow on my knee and looked up at the sky, spacing out. I wondered what adventures awaited me next.

'More sword fights, of course, but what else? Will the mermaids like me when I meet them, or will they treat me like they treated Wendy? And how much exploring can I do? Caves, perhaps? There are probably plenty of creatures, beings in general, to see which the movie doesn't show…maybe even the book doesn't include them. Maybe…hmmm…'

"Peter?"

"Hmm?" He looked at me sideways, and bit into his already half-eaten peach. I laughed to myself, almost inaudibly.

"It's just so amazing to be here, sitting beside you. Who knew this is where I would be in the next day or so?" 'Sentimentalist,' I thought with a grin. I had always been one. I was gazing back up at the blue sky, feeling luckier than ever before.

"Neverland is pwetty awesome, isn't it? Why do you fink I wive here!" Peter said, his mouth full of peach. I chuckled.

"I can even talk with my mouth full here," I said more to myself in the midst of laughing.

"Who said you couldn't?" Peter asked me curiously, taking another giant bite. I glanced at him and grinned at his expression; it was obviously absurd to him that one would not talk with a full mouth. Shaking my head, I looked at the floor, tracing the knots in the wood with my eyes.

"My mother," I answered after a moment.

"Ah. It figures," Peter commented. I laughed to myself again. He didn't have a very good impression of my mother! I looked at my dirt-stained knee, and started to pick at the now dry crust.

"Well, not just my mother. Really, everyone back home above the age of…I dunno…maybe seven, or even younger. But everyone says not to talk with your mouth full. It's considered rude."

"Why? How else are you supposed to talk when you're eating?"

"That's just it. You're _not_ supposed to talk when you're eating. You're told to wait until you've swallowed," I said.

"Why?"

"'Cause people think it's gross to see food in your mouth. I mean, it is, kinda," I said with a shrug. Seeing food in someone's mouth had honestly never bothered me too much.

"Gwown-ufs," Peter said, rolling his eyes. I laughed at his pronunciation of "grown-ups" with a full mouth.

"Indeed," I agreed, nodding. I took some more bites of my banana, relaxing my mind. On the last bite, I smiled widely. I couldn't help myself. I chomped it into a mush, turned to Peter, opened my mouth wide, and stuck my tongue out with a loud, "Ah!" He had finished his peach, and he rolled back in laughter. I laughed too. I wondered how long it had been since I'd done that in front of someone who actually found it funny. I've gotta say, it felt great! I swallowed, still grinning, and looked at the banana peel in my hand. That's when something else occurred to me…"Peter?"

"Yeah?" He sat up again, still chuckling.

"What do I do with this?" I asked, holding out the banana peel.

"Uh, throw it in the water?" he said with a careless shrug, getting up. 'But isn't that littering?' I wondered. I shrugged, and not knowing what else to do with it, tossed it over the edge of the ship. "You call _that_ a throw?" Peter mocked. "Watch this." He picked up the peach core from the deck where he had left it, wound his arm back, and hurled it into the air. It flew far past the spot where my banana peel had splashed.

"Not bad," I nodded. I wasn't about to challenge him to a throwing contest; I had never had much of an arm. But he took care of the challenging for me.

"Not _bad_?!" Peter exclaimed, gawking at me. "It was _so_ much farther than your throw!"

"I wasn't competing with you," I pointed out.

"Huh? Well, let's _make_ it a competition, then!" Before I could protest, Peter grabbed my hand and took to the air.

"Where are we going now?" I asked, watching the ship deck shrink under us.

"A place with lots of rocks," he answered. Rocks weren't all that waited for me there.

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**There yah gooooo!!!! May I ask for reviews (no flames),...PLEASE:D The more reviews I get, the sooner the next chapter will be up!!!!! Oh, and MORE is happening in that chapter, if that's more motivation for reviews!!!! Bwahaha...**


	13. Chapter Thirteen: I Spy

**Hello, My wonderful readers. Yeah...about my updates...I've actually had this chapter written for a LONG time, I just hadn't edited it till now. I'm working two part time jobs this summer, so that's my explanation for another much belated update. I promise to TRY to get my act together!!! The other thing is, I've been delayed with writing chapter fourteen (not quite finished) because I got a new idea and I need to expand on it. So...anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. I only own Rebecca and any other characters or thing you do not recognize. **

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Chapter 13: I Spy**

"PETER, LOOK!" I shouted. We had passed over a large amount of forest and beach and were now descending towards Mermaid's Lagoon. Hah, yes, this was my reaction to my first mermaid sighting. Peter wasn't so impressed.

"What?"

"_What_?! MERMAIDS! _That's _what!" I squealed, forgetting to blush about my squealing because I was so excited. Peter looked at me, a laughing expression on his handsome face.

"Why are girls always so excited over mermaids?" he asked me.

"Uh, 'cause they're _mermaids_ and they're mystical creatures and _beautiful_!" I exclaimed, not believing how matter-of-fact he was being.

"Well, here's your chance to meet them," Peter said as we landed on a nearby rock.

"Eee! Really?" I squealed again, clapping my hands and jumping up and down. Peter laughed and played on his panpipe while I took a quick view of the lagoon just before the mermaids responded to the pretty and playful tune that was so familiar to me from the movie. This was the first time Peter had played his panpipe in front of me, and I fell a thrill of excitement pulse through my stomach. He was so talented! "Doo-doo-doo…" I whispered in rhythm to the music as I looked around me. It was truly an enchanting place, I must say.

With a rushing waterfall in the background, surrounded by enormous tropical flowers of pink and yellow and red and green leaves and ivy, and a thick cloud of mist encircling where the waterfall plunged into the lagoon…and then there were the mermaids themselves, laying about lazily in the sun. Some were asleep, others were playing with their hair, admiring their watery reflections, and now and then I spotted one swimming, rising to the rocks or disappearing into the blue. Their tails were what astonished me the most, as they were green and blue at the same time, like an aquamarine, but they sparkled millions of colors as they moved under the sun. It was an amazing sight. And then there was their hair; it was unreal. I've seen my fair share of girls with hair below their waists, but a mermaid's hair is something else. It's thick, yet light, and silky and always seems to glisten, wet or dry. It's beautiful, and the mermaids in front of me each had a unique shade of brown or gold or red or black. A truly priceless sight, as is all of Neverland.

"Peter! It's Peter Pan! He's here!" a brunette mermaid called out to the others. Instantly, they all started to chatter excitedly, jumping off their rocks and gliding through the water toward Peter and me. I looked at Peter and saw him smiling a cocky grin.

"You just love the attention they give you, don't you, Peter?" I asked with a little laugh. I received no reply, for the boy was paying me no attention. 'I should have expected that,' I thought, though still a tad bit hurt. There wasn't much time to feel hurt, however, as the mermaids surrounded us, poking their heads out of the water and staring at Peter with that drooling look that he always gets from girls. They greeted him excitedly, until they noticed me, which didn't take very long considering that I was standing only a little bit behind him.

"Hello Peter!"

"Peter!"

"Peter, I missed you!"

"Hey, Peter!"

"Hello, Peter!" The lad started to laugh, loving this, obviously.

"Peter, who's that _girl_?" the same brunette asked, her voice hinting at trouble.

"I'm Rebecca," I said quickly.

"And what are you doing with Peter? And what are you wearing?" the mermaid laughed.

"I'm wearing pajamas," I replied easily. They had never seen big t-shirts and flannel pants before?

"Oh? Can you swim in these…what did you call them?"

"Pajamas. Night clothes," I said. They seemed to recognize 'night clothes.' Perhaps they just weren't used to seeing a girl in pants...with the exception of Braith. I felt a wet hand tugging at my right pant leg. They didn't need to ask me to swim twice, for as they did, I dove in. The water was pleasantly warmed in the sun and it felt lovely. I began to do the breaststroke, heading up to the surface…until I realized what a _bad_ mistake I had made jumping into the water. All at once, I felt hands wrapping around my feet and legs, tugging me down. I panicked and began to kick violently, but I was no match against these swimmers. I reached upwards, still attempting to force myself to the surface. I was running out of breath already (I've never been a strong swimmer). And then, to my relief, my hands hit rock.

Slippery as it was, it had plenty of nice holds and I gripped it while calling on my rock climbing muscles. Even in their rusty state, as I had not climbed in some months, I was able to pull myself up.

Twice I was pulled back down, and I ended up sucking in some water, but that only gave me more motivation. It is amazing how strong a person can become when their life is being threatened. I reached up again, clawing the rock as hard as I could, but my hand slipped and my fingers began to burn as my knuckles scraped the jagged edges. I winced, choking, and scrunched my face in pain and desperation as I tried again, only this time my hand landed on the top of a rock, out of the water. I quickly joined my other hand with my first and pulled up with all of my might. The instant my mouth broke through the surface, I spat water and sucked in several noisy breaths. I thought my lungs would never be full enough with air and I couldn't even breathe completely yet because I was choking up water.

By now, I was hanging on tightly to the edge of the rock as my legs continued to be pulled down. 'How am I going to get out of this,' I wondered. These mermaids were stubborn! Looking around me hurriedly, I realized that I was not where I had started. In front of me grew grass and a tree, and thinking quickly (my arms were rapidly tiring) I gripped the roots of the tree and began to use them like rope. The tree was thankfully huge, allowing for the roots to be strong, and they stayed taught without breaking as I pulled and pulled, struggling and wondering when and if my legs would be released. The hands around my legs eventually did begin to let go, and I felt them free me pair by pair. When my legs were finally ridden of mermaid hands, I kicked up and out of the water and lay on my stomach, soaked and exhausted. Peter's whereabouts hardly even crossed my mind. All I felt was relief at having saved myself.

I don't know how long I lay there. I may have fallen asleep (I had closed my eyes), but suddenly I became alert to what sounded like little huffing breaths. I slowly moved my head closer to the forest and forced myself into kneeling so that I could listen more closely. The sound continued with the breaths coming out shallow and rapid and…was that sniffling? Was someone crying? I had to find out.

I got up and tiptoed through the grass, twisting carefully around the tree, trying to hide myself. The sound grew louder. Yes, someone was crying. I could hear sniffling clearly now, along with a sad moaning. I slid against the tree and looked around. It was instantly darker about me now because I was entering the forest, and I shivered under my wet pajamas, wishing that the sun would follow me, but I could still see just fine. As the jungle surrounded me again, and I soon realized that the sound was coming from behind some nearby bushes. I decided to get down on all fours and crawl up to the bushes to do some spying. Perhaps it was a mean thing to do when the person was crying, but I was feeling somehow playful even after nearly being drowned. How was it that I could get happy and playful again so quickly? The one answer I have is that it was Neverland. 'Tis quite difficult to be anything but happy there!

Leaves softly sank beneath the weight of my hands as I crept forward, feeling odd for sneaking up on a crying person. Nevertheless, I continued to the bushes and quietly parted them…and had to cover my mouth with my hand to smother a gasp. For there on a rock to my left, red-faced and crying, sat Braith.

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**Hope you liked it! Reviews, please, and as always no flames, pro favor:D Arevoir (I know I didn't spell that right) until my next update, which will be soon!!!**


	14. Chapter Fourteen: What Past?

**Where oh where have my lovely reviewers disappeared to? Well, I decided to update anyway...this chapter is a bit more eventful so hopefully it will spark more reviews? Please? Just to let everyone know, if it seems to drag a little right now, there is LOTS coming up!! I have many ideas and plans, and reviews will spark my fingers upon my keyboard!!!  
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**Disclaimer: I think you know it by now.  
**

**Chapter 14: What Past?**

Her left fist was to her forehead while her right hand rested upon her knee, clawing it like a cat claws fabric, digging the nails in and out repeatedly. I stared as small tears tossed and spun their way down her hot cheeks. I stared wide-eyed. Braith? Crying? Even in the short time in which I'd known her, she did not seem the type to cry. I was frozen to the spot watching as this tough-skinned and spirited girl cried.

"She's been like that since she ran off into the jungle," someone behind me said, scaring me half to death. My gasp wasn't stifled as I jumped and spun around, noisily crunching foliage, to see Lasher crouched behind me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said immediately upon seeing my popping eyes.

"Uh…'s okay…" I hardly bothered to accept the apology as I turned back around to find that the bushes were no longer parted and the sniffling sounds were gone. I squinted through the leaves and saw Braith looking suspiciously in my direction, her hand on her knife, ready to jump into action. I quickly turned back to Lasher, hoping that she hadn't seen me. The boy was looking at me, waiting for a response, I suppose. "Lasher, you know I didn't mean anything earlier, don't you?" When he did not answer right away, I pushed on, "I didn't! I swear all I wanted to do was have some fun. I love swords and fencing and when Peter challenged me to a duel with him last night, how could I refuse? But then Braith took it all wrong, and I don't know why-" Lasher finally clapped a soiled hand over my mouth.

"Reb…Beck, I hadn't thought you meant any offense, so I never blamed you. I don't really know you yet, but I'm not judging you, and it looked like you were really nervous and stuff. I wasn't mad at you, but Braith…" he trailed off into a sigh. "I think she just feels like Peter might put you in the second-in-command position or something. I'm not positive on that, but I know that she likes being the only girl around here, especially because of her position in the pack."

"Really? I would think she'd _like_ having another girl around," I whispered.

"Yeah, you might think so, but not Braith. She's funny that way, like she wants all the attention of being the only Lost Girl or something. I don't know. I do think that she feels like her stance is threatened by you, though."

"But why? I'm not interested in being of high rank in the group. I just want to have fun," I said.

"Uh huh. Well, I believe you, but good luck convincing Braith of that. Especially after getting Peter all angry like that…" he paused, and I could have sworn I saw him shudder. I knew that the Lost Boys adored Peter, because who didn't! But they also obviously feared him, perhaps even more than any pirate or nemesis. I pondered this for a second. If that was true, maybe it was because Peter Pan had the authority to banish them from Neverland, the only place that would let them just be children forever. "Beck, if you knew," Lasher started again, pulling me back from my thoughts, "if you had any idea of what Braith went through with Peter to get that rank in the band." Lasher looked upwards and then hung his head and shook it. Now I was really curious.

"Lasher, tell me. What happened to her?" He took a breath.

"See, Braith has been in Neverland a long time…longer than me," Lasher began.

"How is that possible? You're twins, aren't you?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, we're twins, but she came to Neverland first. She believed in Peter Pan so hard that…it's a long story. Let's just say that I wasn't as much of a believer until…well, she came here first, and then I followed suit later." He stopped talking then and looked at the ground again. That's when I noticed something I hadn't before. As obvious as it was that they were twins, Lasher did look…_older_ than Braith. Not by very much, but his features were somehow more mature than hers, making him out to look like an older brother and a twin at the same time. And it must have been because he had grown older and come here later than Braith. What was the secret here?

"Lasher, what aren't you telling me? I want the whole story!" I said. He took another breath, stopped, and breathed again.

"Look, it's not really my place to tell you. If you really want to know, you need to ask Braith."

"Braith! She hates me!"

"Well, like I said, it's just not my place to tell you. I _can_ tell you-"

"LASHER!" a voice called. "LASHER! WHERE ARE YOU?" One of the younger boys. "LASHER! I NEED YOUR HELP! HOW DO YOU SET THESE THINGS OFF? LASHER!" We had turned to look behind me in the direction of the Jolly Roger, whence the voice came from. Lasher turned back to me and gave me an apologetic look before rising and taking off at a sprint into the forest. I watched his back melt into the leaves, a piece of disappointment hanging on a string in my chest. I was glad we had talked. What a nice boy! After sitting for a minute, I twisted back to look through the bushes again. I hadn't noticed before, but the sniffling sounds had returned. However, the rock was now unoccupied and I had to look around for a minute before I spotted her up in a tree. The crying was much softer now, which explained why I hadn't noticed it. She was wiping her eyes frustratedly, trying to calm herself down and keeping an eye out for…something…

I looked around above me to try to spot what she was looking for, but I saw nothing. Shrugging that off, I got up and on an impulse I walked through the brush, bringing myself into her view and stood at the base of her tree, looking up at her.

"Braith," I said softly.

The girl's tears were decreasing, and she gasped and hurriedly rubbed her face with her hands, cleaning up the rest of the tears. Her teeth and fist clenched in harmony as her eyes met mine. Dirt streaked her pink face. Who knew how long that dirt had been there, because it was a completely different sight to see cleaner flesh hidden beneath. I took a breath to speak, but she beat me to it.

"Get lost!" she barked at me. "I mean it! I'll fight you again and this time Peter isn't here to save you!" she threatened, her hand yanking out her knife. I only wanted to talk, and I didn't need to ask her to climb down. She practically sprang from the thick branch she squatted on to a few branches underneath, her feet hitting the ground within seconds, causing me to jump back a few steps.

"Braith, wait-"

"Amazing that you're dumb enough to come near me without Peter," she said in a low voice, continuing toward me.

"Braith, hold it! I just want…"

"Oh I'll hold it all right, inside your gut!" she snapped, holding the knife out and pointed at my gut.

"Can we please talk?" I tried, watching the point of the knife and backing up in haste.

"Ain't nothin' to talk about." Braith picked up her step.

"Braith, please!" I cried nervously, starting to run backwards. I wanted to get through to this girl, but couldn't she just refused to step down from her protective platform.

"Please what?" she asked mockingly. "Please kill you quickly so you won't feel the pain?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and I knew she was serious. She wanted me gone.

"No! I want to be friends," I blurted out as I suddenly backed into another tree. The fire-eyed girl actually stopped in her tracks for a moment, just a moment, and looked at me blankly. Then snorted.

"F-friends?" she stuttered in shock. With the added moment, I side-stepped away from the tree.

"Yes. I want to be frie-" I started, thinking about racing away into the brush.

"Me?! Friends with _you_?!" Braith cut me off, grabbed my arm roughly, and slammed me up against the tree, knocking my head into the bark. I clenched my face against the sharp pain. Her knife was at my throat. "How can I be friends with someone who's intruding on my territory, huh?" she whispered in a growl.

"_Your_ territory? So _all_ of Neverland belongs to you now?" I demanded, and then felt the tip of her blade press into my Adam's apple. I panicked and suddenly that fight-and-flight mode they talk about in psychology kicked in and I acted on instinct. My left arm swung up and knocked her arm away, cutting my throat but not deeply. I threw my right fist at her face and punched her across the nose. It was the first time I'd punched anyone on my life. My knuckles burned. Braith spun with the force of the punch but did not fall. She steadied herself quickly and was ready to come at me again, but I was on the other side of the bushes by then. I glared at her in that moment, hyperventilating. Some blood dribbled down Braith's top lip from her nose and she touched it. When she saw the red liquid upon her fingers, she wiped it away with the back of her hand, which she rubbed against her black ripped pants. The blood kept flowing.

"I hate you," she said, her face turning red. I wondered if it was out of humiliation from being punched or from anger. Or a mix of both. But never had I seen someone look at me with such honest contempt before.

"Way to state the obvious," I replied. It's a scary thing when someone's eyes hold nothing but hate for you. Her intense blue eyes were unmoving, unfaltering, unblinking. "Why do you hate me, Braith?" She didn't answer the question directly.

"Just know this: Neverland is _not_ your home and it never will be."

"Doesn't that depend on Peter?" I said. Her face tightened at his name even more (if that was possible).

"I will _never_ be your friend," she said with finality.

"Fine. But you've got to accept me into the Lost Boys. You just know _that_."

"Over my dead body," she whispered. I shook my head. I didn't know what to do. What was there left to do at that point? Except to just walk away. So into the jungle I went, glancing over my shoulder to make sure that Braith wasn't following me with her knife out-stretched to kill me. But she was gone. I worried for a moment that she might hide and wait to spring on me, and that's when I decided I needed my own knife. I cautiously made my way through the jungle, very aware of my surroundings and trying my best to find my way back to the hide out. I touched my Adam's apple, acknowledging the pain there for the first time. Thank goodness the knife had only broken my skin and nothing beneath it. My fingers were stained with blood, which I wiped on my pajama pants.

"Where's Peter?" I wondered out loud.

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**So...REVIEWS (NO FLAMES) REVIEWS REVIEWS!!!! PPPPLLLLEEEEEAAASSSSSEEEEE:D  
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	15. Chapter Fifteen: Hanging By A Limb

**All right, I guess I have a LOT of explaining to do...first of all, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! YAY 2008!!! Secondly...yeah, I haven't updated since August. So here's what happened: SCHOOL AND NANOWRIMO. I actually did a LOT of work on this during November for NANOWRIMO (Nation Novel Writing Month, if you don't know what it is, google it) but it was character development work. I wrote the background story (still in progress) of one of the HUGE characters in this story. I had to get to know that character's history for something huge coming up in this one. Anyway, I'm as of yet undecided about posting my NANO story, but I knew I had to get back to this one. So here is a BRAND NEW CHAPTER!!! Oh, and a little warning...there is actually a TINY bit of nudity in it, more hinted than anything. I promise that it's for a good reason though, and it's not for romantic purposes. I swear! Please still read it, and if I've gone too far let me know in a review (no flames please). Just so that everybody knows, I could NEVER abandon this story. I love writing about that wonderful boy who never grows up too much. So, if months do pass between updates, it doesn't mean that I've stopped writing, EVER. Just slow updating...eheh. Thank you so much to all of my lovely readers, you guys keep me writing. :D And I will try to update more often now that I know that certain character better...**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I just own Rebecca and all other OC's...not Tinker Bell or Peter Pan or any other familiar characters.  
**

**Chapter Fifteen: Hanging By A Limb**

As I tramped my way through the brush in what I hoped was the direction of the hideout, I wondered how one makes a dagger. I mean, the question of a blacksmith went through my mind, but who was I kidding? A blacksmith in Neverland? Ha!

"Guess I'll have to somehow sharpen a stone into a dagger," I said to myself. I was glancing all around me, wondering why I had chosen the direction I did…was it at all accurate to the hideout? That's when it happened. My feet were sort of circling as I looked around in all directions, trying to find the right one, when I stepped on something soft. In a matter of seconds, a vine closed around my right ankle and I was swept into the air, hanging upside down by my leg as my mouth omitted a scream. I bounced up and down for a few seconds, flailing my limbs wildly and trying to get my bearings while hyperventilating and shouting, "Whoa! Whoa!" The leafy ground came toward my face and moved away several times while the jungle spun about my head and bounced up and down, greatly dizzying me. Remembering times on rapidly spinning tire swings, I squeezed my eyes shut in hopes of helping the sickening sensation. Shut eyes didn't help at all.

My right leg, the victim limb, was feeling very strange, almost as if detached, and aching from my hip joint…I panicked as I realized it might have been disconnected from the socket, and I looked up at my ankle, the tight vine scooping up the skin around my heel and turning it bright red with the pressure. My left leg was swinging around haphazardly, probably not helping very much in stopping or at least slowing the spinning. "Er…errr…" I groaned as I tried my best to crunch my stomach enough so that I could reach my ankle with my hands and hopefully set my foot free. It was no use, as it pained my leg to strain against it and I couldn't get very far anyway. I gently let my upper torso hang down again, suddenly tucking my still damp t-shirt into my pajama pants to avoid certain exposure. Then I tried to bend my right knee and bring my body up with it…and there was no hope there either. I might have been able to lift myself that way if both of my ankles had been entangled, providing more strength, but as it was just the one, I began to flail my limbs again in a panic. How long was I going to hang there until someone found me? "HELP!" I screamed. "PETER! HELP ME! HELP!" My voice went shrill as I felt the blood increase in my face thanks to gravity. I had always hated that feeling and I was helpless at the moment to alleviate it. I was taking a breath to scream for help again when I got another idea.

The spinning of the vine was settling down some more now and I looked around through a face pressured with excess blood, trying to focus on the surrounding resources I could possibly use. This was going to be tricky, but I had to try...

"All right, this vine must be attached to a tree limb somewhere…" I reasoned to myself. Sure enough, there was a fairly thick tree to my right. Actually, there were many trees right close by. I mean, it was a _jungle_! I wanted to smack my forehead for not thinking of this before, and used my still quite existent panic as a scapegoat for stupidity. There was a tree to my left side that was actually closer to me than the tree on my right from which I hung, and I began to try to build up a little momentum in attempts to swing to the tree on the left. I sort of twitched my upper torso back and forth and was relieved to find that I could get something of a slight swing started, which encouraged me to try harder. I gained closer and closer air to the tree and began to reach out for it, groaning all the while as further dizziness from the sinking blood in my head affected my perception of my surroundings. I knew I had to get down fast or I would be likely to pass out quite soon. "Just a little further," I groaned to myself, stretching my widened fingers from my hands and arms as far as they could travel. Thankfully, my fingertips managed to scrape against the bark and I was all the more determined to reach the tree.

I swung even harder, trying to calm the fear of smashing my face into the bark of the tree, which was pretty inevitable. "How many wounds am I going to get in just one day here?" I wondered aloud in another groan, somehow knowing that this was only the beginning of cuts and bruises and bloodiness to be encountered. And then my hands finally gripped the thick ridged bark, snapping back off, and then grabbing it again on the following swing. That time, my arms were part way around the tree's body, so with much effort I was able to cling to it. "Now what?" I asked myself as my arms started to ache almost immediately. I tried to wrap them about the tree a bit more and, again calling on my climbing strategies (they were really coming in handy!) I held my face…well, more like banged it against the tree, wincing and not at all enjoying the feeling of falling bits of dust from the bark mixing with the blood on my neck. As I did this, I pushed out my left leg, swinging it a little to try to find the tree with it, using my right ankle within the vine as a balance.

My left foot struck the tree. I almost breathed some relief as I worked it around the trunk and tried to stabilize it against the bark. Then I took a breath, gathering the strength within my limbs, and worked my left leg with my arms to push myself up the tree. I was desperately hoping to find a branch; I couldn't really look for one or I would surely get bark in my eyes. I had to feel for one. My plan was to hang from or even sit on a limb and then untangle my ankle. I would worry about getting down from the tree later. Yet another problem presented itself as I squeezed against the tree and tried my hardest to push upwards. My shirt was gradually being pushed out of my pajama pants as my body moved upward, and while I sensed it with great discomfort, I knew that there was nothing I could do to fix it unless I wanted to greatly risk swinging dangerously down from the tree and into mid-air again. I was grateful enough as it was that my right leg seemed to still be within its socket and I did not want that to change. So as I gradually slid up, my t-shirt slowly slid down my stomach. The only real thing I could do was try to squeeze my torso against the tree to help prevent my shirt from sliding, but it was a lose-lose situation as that caused the shirt to slide more. Yet if I had given it any lee-way, it would have fallen right down…_not good_!

Oh, but then something good did happen as my strength was rapidly being drained from my body and my teeth clenched harder…_a wonderful lovely welcomed tree branch_. I was so happy that I actually half cried-out and half groaned-out a "YES!" as I hooked my left foot over it. With that help, I was able to pull up with my left leg, bracing my hands carefully against the trunk of the tree, and eventually grip the branch with my left hand. I then pulled up, holding my breath against the strain of my muscles, and pushed my left leg over the branch. Now I was somewhat straddled on it, with my upper torso hanging down and off the side of it. I was still too scared to move my right hand from the trunk lest I should fall, so I concentrated on steadying myself and slowly making my way into a sitting position.

My shirt also made its little way left down to my shoulder blades and there was still nothing that I could do about it without taking a great and dangerous risk of completely falling. I tried to ignore the ever-growing exposure as I worked on getting myself onto that branch. It was thin but stable enough to support me, for which I was quite thankful. "Okay," I said to myself as my body scooted itself more so upon the branch. "Okay…" I worked my right hand up the trunk of the tree, and was actually getting pretty close to taking the limb in both hands and fixing my shirt…which had slid down even more.

It was just then that I heard a rustling in some nearby bushes beneath me and I completely panicked again. I somehow doubted that it was an animal, and as I searched frantically for the source, I found that I was perfectly right. For there to my left, crouched within some very thick foliage, emerged a face covered with grime and dirt and an evil grimace. The face rose just a few more inches, and I found broadened and strong shoulders beneath a tattered shirt and leathery rags…a man. And he was looking directly at me. I met his eyes, finding them hard, dark brown, staring and…wandering down from my face…I looked down and found a feminine area to be peeking out of the bottom of my t-shirt.

I gasped, trying to move my left elbow to cover myself, with little success. I looked at the man again, and he was still staring at that region, only now a certain grin was spreading across his face. A grin that I did not like in the least. A grin with rotting, almost non-existent teeth and…_desire_. I began to hyperventilate again, panicked pain firing through the pit of my stomach as the man came to his full height and stepped in my direction. That's also when I noticed the cutlass about his waist. I continued to observe his appearance, but I needn't have looked twice to know one thing. He was a _pirate_.

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**Like cliff hangers? Yeah, it's unfair for me to leave you there for too long, so I won't ;) But please ****(NO FLAMES)**** REVIEW!!!! **


	16. Chapter Sixteen: 'Ello, lass

**Another chapter!!! YYYYYYAAAAAYYYY!!!!!! Okay, so I think that's two updates within the same month? New record for me? Hahaha! I actually was stuck on this one for a long time because while I have soooo many plans for this story, I hit a spot where I wasn't sure how to push forward. But I figured it out for now, so (quote from Disney movie) "here we goooo!!!! Off to Neverland!!"... **

**Disclaimer: I own no characters or anything that you recognize. **

**Chapter Sixteen: "'Ello, lass"**

_Pirate_. The word echoed through my mind as if I had shouted it into a tunnel. Was I doomed to meet people in bad situations? First I had met Peter Pan as he pointed his dagger at my throat…and now a pirate was walking towards me and…I had to get myself covered as fast and possible. And keeping in mind that my right ankle was still caught within the grasps of that blasted vine! I trembled, watching the man take step after step towards me, his eyes hardly at all waving from my uncovered region, and only to take in other parts of my female body. I wished so badly that I had not yet gone through puberty.

Tearing my eyes from the all-too-obviously eager pirate, I scraped my left leg the rest of the way across the branch and pressed my foot on the other side of the tree. Then I used that support and pulled myself up and over so that I was on my stomach stretched along the branch. Hastily, I reached up with my right hand while holding a death grip on the limb with my left hand and frantically began to fix my shirt. I tugged it down so hard that it might have ripped in the middle had I not switched hands to fix the other side. I could still feel my bare stomach against the bark, but I was happy with my top being covered again. Turned furiously red between extreme humiliation and anger…and a bit of fear…I looked back to the ground to find the pirate. At first I could not spot him. He had disappeared from the brush, or so it seemed. Of course, for all that I knew, the dirty man might have been crouched beneath the leaves once more, out of sight.

"Oh my, where did he go?" I asked myself softly in a voice that shook with anxiety. I hugged the branch, squeezing my cheek against its wood, and taking a hard swallow, forced myself to try to slowly sit up so that I would be straddled upon the tree branch and in a better position to look for the pirate; but I was looking for the pirate all the while anyway. "Uh…" I breathed, pushing one hand behind the other and walking them up the bark, gradually moving myself so that I sat up with my back straight against the base. I might have relaxed even in the slightest bit except that, well, although I had not caught any further sight of that pirate, I could have sworn that I felt a certain presence around me. Like he was watching me. Needless to say, I did not like it at all. And I had no idea were he was. I just knew the urge within my body to cover myself up with my arms and escape, as if there were eyes tracing me. Unless I could find that pirate, I was as vulnerable as a mouse under the preying eyes of a cat. All he needed to do was pull some sort of a stunt and…

I shuddered. My first encounter with a pirate and I couldn't even find him while I was so sure that he was observing my every move. Subconsciously, I tugged my t-shirt down a bit more. I still had my back against the tree's base, and I tried to calm myself as I looked around beneath my perch, open-mouthed and breathing in short quick puffs. Deciding that I had better do something other than stare around me, I began to lift my right foot along the trunk of the tree so that my hands could reach it and free it of the vine. My heel scratched its way up the hard bark, gaining on my waiting right hand. Wherever that pirate was, I had to try to get myself free so that I could run, or just move as necessary. I didn't even get that chance.

_Crunch_. The sound came from behind me and made me jump so much that I was suddenly on the edge of the branch and reaching for something to hold me up. The right side of my head knocked right into the tree as I whirled around to find that the pirate was climbing the tree behind me, in surprising silence, except that he had stepped upon some loose bark, which crunched under his weight. He saw me looking at him, and smiled up at me, climbing faster. I was shaking uncontrollably, backing up from him as my first instinct instructed, and then screaming as I felt air behind me in place of more of the branch on which I sat. I tried to grab for the branch, but it was too late. Instead of the branch, I ended up grabbing my right ankle as I fell from the tree, scrunching my eyes tightly shut as I waited for the pain of feeling the vine become taught. And just as it went taught, I got extremely lucky. I was clutching my ankle, so my leg was not straight but very much bent with my knee in front of my face. That must have been what saved my leg from being dislocated and broken; instead, the vine broke with a loud snap and my ankle actually slipped from the mutilated piece of jungle. Now there was the problem of landing…

I hardly gave any grateful recognition to the vine breaking and releasing me as I snapped my head back to watch the fast-approaching ground. I was going to land within the edges of the brush where the pirate had been. Again, following instinct, I tucked into a tight ball and wrapped my head inside my hands and arms for protection. I listened to the wind zip past me as I braced myself for the ground hit. My upper shoulders made the first contact with the brush, and then I rolled onto my back and tossed through the thick leaves (which were thankfully soft). I actually came to a halt standing upon my feet, looking at the ground, and then the tree, dazed at how I had pulled off that landing. It reminded me of a time back home when I had tripped on concrete and gone down headfirst; but then I had curled into a similar tight ball and rolled upon the pavement, coming instantly back onto my feet with only a bump on my elbow as injury. I had laughed at it then and…in spite of the pirate still being there, and the shock, I began to laugh now.

"I pulled off that landing again!" I laughed out loud, holding my stomach and allowing the laughter to calm my jittery nerves. That's when I heard a loud thump into shrubbery from not too far away. I looked up and saw that the pirate had jumped from the tree and landed behind it. He stepped fully out in front of me, grinning and moving his hand to his cutlass.

"'Ello, lass," he said with a rough, choked chuckle, as if his throat was clogged with liquid (probably rum). He was not the tallest of men, but he was built and very tan will brown greasy hair that looked as if it had been soaked in something other than water. His loose shirt had a low collar and was turned almost dirt-brown from what may have been a creamy color long ago. Over that, he wore a tattered leather vest with holes here and there, some of which looked to be the result of burns. I could see chest hair doused in a spit and mud mixture just above his shirt collar. And low and behold, as my eyes scanned down to his waist, I noticed a cracked, filthy bottle of what I assumed to be rum secured to an equally tattered leather belt that looked like it would give way at any movement. Below that, black pants with holes at the knees and torn hems, stopping above bare and disgusting feet. Feet that were taking steps advancing towards me. I did the first thing that came to mind: I took a step back. This only quickened his steps.

"Wait, I-I'm weapon-less," I stuttered to myself absurdly. Apparently the pirate heard me because he let out a loud laugh. 'Like he'll care about a fair fight,' I thought. I was terrified…at the same time as being completely fascinated in the face of my first real-life pirate…

"Aw, ye're weaponless, are ye? I be protectin' ye then from the jungle, miss," the man replied, his voice swimming in mock sympathy. "Just come wi' me now." He was beginning to draw his weapon from its sheath. As I debated where to run, the most peculiar thing happened. The pirate suddenly seemed to see something or someone behind me, and his eyes went wide. A moment later, he had snapped his cutlass fully within its sheath again and collapsed himself into the brush. The leaves rustled for a few second and then went still.

"Huh?" I uttered in confusion. Something to scare off a pirate…I hastily turned to look behind me lest I should be harmed by whatever scared him, and I smashed into someone. With a little yelp, I landed on my bum among the foliage. I began to crawl backwards quickly as I looked up at my new pursuer: Peter Pan. Who laughed at the fright on my face. I wasn't so quickly amused just yet. "Peter!" I yelled, scrambled up to my feet and leaping upon him. I actually surprised not only Peter, but also myself as I swung my arms around his neck in a quick and panicked hug. Peter recognized the panic, and he took my arms and pulled them off so that I faced him. The smile had disappeared from his mouth, though it was still in his eyes where it always was.

"Rebecca, what's the matter with you?"

"Pirate!" I said quickly. I blinked and felt myself yanked beneath the leaves underfoot. Peter's hand was around his dagger…but his smile had widened and he was laughing.

"Oh really?" he said with much mischief. "Where is he?" I looked around us. We were only crouching, but the brush grew impressively high and it was like a whole different world down here! It was dark and mysterious, smelling of Earth and I had always loved that smell. Earth mixed with greenery, stems of all sorts of which were popping up all around us while the leaves provided a shield from the world above our heads. I was so fascinated that it took me several seconds to pay attention to the question again.

"Yeah, it's exciting down here, huh?" Peter said, calling my mind back to him and his question.

"Yeah! He was…" I pointed behind me. "Well, he kind of disappeared into the bushes when he saw something behind me." I suddenly giggled. "I think it must have been _you_ that he saw!" Peter laughed out loud.

"Probably. For some reason, the pirates are scared around me without Hook and a complete crew. They're just scared of me now. 'Cause I'm the best there ever was! Come on!" The laughing boy tumbled over and began to crawl away. I laughed, just out of relief of being with him again and new excitement about where we were going. Peter crawled forward fast, and then looked back, his eyes big and grinning at mine. Suddenly, his expression changed. "Rebecca, what happened to you?" he asked me. He was staring just below my chin. Apparently he had just noticed one of my newest wounds.

"Eh…some stuff," I mumbled.

"Like what?" I sighed.

"Well, I got stuck in a tree for one thing. A vine wrapped around my ankle-"

"Oh, don't tell me…the Lost Boys like to set up traps like that to catch animals. I should have warned you before. I'll show you what to look for so that doesn't happen again," Peter said, taking my hand and pulling me forward to where he was. His eyes remained fixated at my throat. "What happened there?" he said, putting a finger to it. I winced as he touched it, and he quickly moved his hand. "Sorry. How did that happen?"

"Ah…it's just a scratch," I said, trying to get out of making an explanation.

"A scratch that looks like it came from a blade," Peter said seriously, studying it closely. I turned away. Somehow I didn't want him to have any more anger with that girl than he already had. I don't really know why, but I didn't want to tell him about it.

"It's nothing, Peter. Really, let's just go," I said, not at all meeting his eyes. Peter was not so easily deterred.

"Did that pirate do that to you?" he asked through a tightening jaw, this time removing his blade from it's sheath. I couldn't hold back a little smile of admiration at how obviously defensive he was of his friends.

"No, no, Peter, it wasn't the pirate," I said, laughing a little before realizing that that probably had been my venue out of telling him the truth.

"Then who was it?" Okay, he knew it was from a blade. I wouldn't be able to convince him that it was from something else.

"Uh…Peter, it really doesn't matter. I'm fine. Let's just get back to the hideout. I want to see everyone again and-"

"It matters to me. Tell me who did it," Peter said, lowering his voice. Now he was making me nervous and before I could stop it, my mouth spoke.

"Braith." Peter stared at me for a second longer and it seemed as if rapid thoughts were going through his mind as he made some sort of a decision. I panicked; he wasn't going to banish her, was he? "Peter-" I said quickly, about to beg him not to do that.

"I don't usually do this for girls, and I sure wasn't going to do it this soon…" he said in thought. My face was heating up from the tension within me, wondering what was going through his mind about Braith and what he was going to do. I tried to protest again as he looked back at me.

"Peter, I-"

"I think it's time to make you a blade," he said with finality and a small grin. I nearly started to protest again, and then his words sunk in.

"A_blade_? Of my _own_?!" I exclaimed excitedly. I was thrilled at the idea! Peter laughed.

"Come on," he said again, and we crawled forward, where to I did not yet know. But I was practically shaking all over in anticipation of my own weapon.

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**REVIEW PLEASEEEE!!!!! (NO FLAMES!!!) HOPEFULLY I'LL HAVE THE NEXT CHAPTER WRITTEN SOON...REVIEWS SPEED MY WRITING!!!! **


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Ashwatthama

**Hello my lovely readers...I AM SOOOO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO POST THIS CHAPTER!! I spent a REALLY long time on it, researching on sword-making and writing bits and pieces of it here and there, and it just kept on getting longer. I actually considered dividing it into two chapters, but decided to keep it one. Hopefully it's long enough to make up for the amount of time it took me to write/edit it. I also spent a long time editing it because typos and bad grammar drive me crazy. Anyway, just so everyone knows, I'm sure that I got some facts wrong in here (you'll know what I mean when you read it) but I had to be creative. I mean, there isn't going to be electricity in Neverland, which means that there won't be a forge for making a sword. At least not a modern day forge. So I worked with whatever ideas crossed my mind, and I'm admitting that they are pretty far-fetched, but oh well. Had to do something. And also a special shout out to romance.randomness.and.regret and everyone else who has been encouraging me all along. I'm loving writing this and I can't thank you guys enough for reading my writing and pushing me to continue. :D ****Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys!!  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan.**

Chapter Seventeen: Ashwatthama

**Chapter Seventeen: Ashwatthama**

Some minutes later, we were continuing to crawl along beneath the jungle of the forest bed, and I still didn't know where we were headed. Nor had I any idea of how to make a blade. _I didn't hear him wrong, did I?_ I wondered. _He did say that we would make me my own blade, right? But how?_ I was assuming that we would need some sort of a supply of steel, but where would we get that? I giggled at the idea of stores in Neverland where one could just drive and buy some supplies.

"What's so funny?" Peter asked, looking back at me with a smile, obviously wanting in on the fun. Didn't he always?

"Nothing. Just imagining having stores in Neverland where you could buy steel and whatnot." Peter frowned at me. Had I said something wrong?

"Stores? Buy?" he asked with curiosity. "What are they?" I couldn't hold back another small giggle. Peter looked confused now. "What?" he asked at my soft laughter.

"It's just that…" I was about to comment on his lack of knowledge of those words, but I decided not to for fear of insulting him, which was the last thing that I wanted to do. "Ah…" I stuttered in mid-sentence. "Stores are places back where I live."

"You live here now, Rebecca," Peter said with finality and a smile. I blushed with pleasure. Take that, Braith!

"Well, where I _came_ from, you drive…ah…_go_…" I corrected myself, knowing ahead of time that Peter wouldn't know what it meant to drive and I didn't feel like trying to explain it to him at the moment. I wanted my blade! "You go," I continued, "and you trade money…ah…I mean paper…f-for…things that you need." I was having trouble in my attempts to word the process in a way that Peter would understand.

"Paper? Why?" The boy had stopped completely now and was sitting cross-legged on the ground with one hand on his knee and the other scratching his head in thought. How was I supposed to explain money to him?

"Uh, well, it's green paper and everyone wants it because you need it to get stuff. Like…" I tried to think of an example that he would understand, and then almost smacked my forehead because of the obviousness of the answer. "Like steel, you know, that you would use to make blades?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, using a tone of voice that showed that he thought making blades from steel was very obvious.

"Well, if we were back where I li-…came from," I quickly corrected myself, "you would go to a store and give the person there enough green paper to get steel to make your blade." Peter gave me a look of utter perplexity, and I looked back in silence, having explained it as best I could to him, or at least for the time being. Maybe I would try to explain it in more detail later. Peter looked away from my eyes and focused on the ground, still in thought. "Uh…" I started to say, about to cautiously ask him if he understood, but he cut me off in his line of thought.

"Strange…very strange. I've never seen green paper before. Why would someone want green paper?"

"So that they could use it to buy other stuff. That is, trade it for other things that they need," I attempted to answer even though he still was staring at the ground.

"And then what do the next people do with it?" he asked me, looking back up and making eye contact again, the question bouncing around like a ball in his ginger eyes, waiting to be caught.

"Um, they use it to…get food for themselves," I said slowly. It was hard to keep up with his leaping thoughts when he didn't even understand what he was thinking about!

"But you can just go hunting or pick fruit off of the trees," Peter said, making the notion of buying food sound ridiculous.

"Well, we can't do that where I came from," I said simply.

"Why not?" Couldn't he just let it go?

"Because!" I said, becoming slightly exasperated with him. "Because," I said again a second later in a calmer tone, "that's just the way it is. Think of it like something that grown ups do. I mean, they are the ones that instate these silly rules," I added, humorously noticing the look of disgust that flashed across Peter's face at the mention of grown ups. _That explanation ought to do it_, I thought to myself, satisfied. I found that I was wrong, as Peter's eyes met mine once more with yet another look of bewilderment.

"Instate? What's instate mean?" he asked me. I nearly grabbed my head and shook it in frustration, but I quickly swallowed the urge and said, "Never mind." Before he could ask again, I added, "Grown ups are the ones that make up the rules where I used to live."

"So…grown ups make you give people green paper to trade for other stuff then?" Peter finally seemed to conclude.

"Sure," I said hastily, eager to move on while knowing that he wasn't even close to understanding the money system yet. I tried to understand his point of view. It was such an obvious thing to me, but of course for someone who had never had to use money…well, that was something that I admittedly could not grasp, so perhaps I was in the same boat as Peter was, only at the opposite end of the spectrum.

"But why green paper? The Lost Boys trade marbles and feathers and stuff, 'cause those things are fun. What's so fun about green paper?" Peter asked me, apparently still not satisfied with my answers. But how could I answer this. I shrugged because I couldn't thing of anything else to do.

"It's…just the way it is, Peter. I don't know why, it just is," I said, while his question actually began to bother me too. I mean, he was right in a way. Why did we throw green paper called 'money' back and forth and fight over it? It was just green paper. Why didn't we trade useful things instead, like food or books or electronics or something? Those things could be put to actual use, while money could only be traded. Wasn't that the way the Pilgrims and the Native Americans had done it first? I tried to remember my history lessons from elementary school. They had traded corn and…and…

"Well, that's just really strange then. Come on, we're still a bit of a distance away," Peter said, at last releasing the conversation to travel out and away to be shared by the other persons of the island. He pulled me from the ever-running wanderings of my mind just as I had started to scold myself for not remembering the history details. History was a passion of mine and I was so ashamed that I couldn't quite remember the finer details of the Thanksgiving stories that I had learned in the first grade. I didn't have much time to dwell on that though, because Peter had started to crawl ahead of me, still beneath the brush, and I hurried to keep up. My knees kept slamming into small pebbles and large roots sneaking out from trees along the way, and I was reminded of a time when I was seven years of age. I had been on a hike with my dog running in front of me, trailing me on her leash. I had been having fun running carelessly behind her, but that carelessness lead me to trip and fall, and then painfully injure my knee as the point of a rock sticking up struck right into the soft region at the bottom of my knee cap. The rest of the hike had been made in a painful limp, and that memory always reminded me to be careful when running in rocky woods or…now, for instance. I actually winced as my knees hit the forest floor again and again, but only because of smaller stones and the occasional larger rock; nothing like when I was seven. However, I did place my hand upon a leafy spot, only to find that the leaves concealed a hole. Not a deep hole, but enough to cause me to yelp in surprise as my hand and wrist vanished into the ground. Peter, a good several feet ahead of me, turned.

"Oh…you okay?" he asked, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, probably seeing me as being very clumsy with the forest.

"Yeah, fine," I said quickly, removing my hand from the hole and scurrying faster to catch up as Peter nodded and continued forward. "Peter, wait!" I called. He turned to look back again with a 'What is it now?' expression on his cute and by now dirt-streaked face when he suddenly froze, listened for a moment, and then looked at me with widened eyes. "Wha-," I started to ask, but was silenced by a signal of his fingers to his pursed lips to be quiet. I shut my mouth and then obeyed as Peter motioned for me to get down on my stomach. I was scared now, but I didn't have long to wonder what was going on because a sudden large and grimy boot crashed through the brush to my left and landed right in front of my face. I jumped, and had to muffle my mouth with my hand, turned brown from the dirt, as I gasped. Peter quickly looked around the foot, a pirate's foot, I guessed, possibly the same man from earlier, and motioned with a wave of his hand for me to stay calm and silent and still. I did, with the exception of staying calm, as I saw the pirate's left foot land in front of Peter, who didn't flinch a bit. The pirate stopped for a second, and I feared that he'd heard something. Then I heard him doing something or other above the greenery that hid Peter and me, and wondered what he was up to. It was then that I realized I wasn't breathing and drew in a soft wisp of air just as a drop of dark liquid landed upon the back of my right hand. Whether it was dark from the shade provided by the leafy canopy or from the liquid's content was not completely clear, but the raw burning stench that mixed with that wisp of air I had just inhaled was too much to bear and it was all I could do to clamp my left hand over my mouth and nose to stifle the chokes that threatened to burst forth. And all from that one tiny little drop of liquid. What was it?

"Bloody 'ell. Where's I suppose' ter get me rum now?" the man in front of me grumbled to himself and then to my relief he stalked off muttering to himself. I eyed Peter as he watched the man leave, and as soon as he signaled that I could move again, I gasped and sat up, looking at the now drying drop on my hand.

"Peter, what _is_ that?" I asked in disgust.

"What's what?" he asked, crawling over to see, and then grimacing at the smell of it. "Ooo, that's rum that you've got on you. He must have been drinking it there. Nasty stuff," the boy informed me. It was as I had guessed.

"Nasty stuff indeed," I agreed, wiping it into the dirt. I smelled my hand again, only to find that the stench of the rum was too strong to be outdone just like that. I wrinkled my nose, wondering how long I'd have to deal with the back of my hand smelling of the foul stuff.

"It's gonna smell like that for a while," Peter commented, as if he had read my thoughts. I twisted my mouth with impatience, and Peter let go a soft chuckle through a look of pity on his face. I guessed that he had had to deal with this in the past, probably on more than one occasion due to his famously frequent interaction with the pirates. Before he could speak, I took the initiative.

"Peter, it's awesome down under these leaves, but my knees are getting sore. Can't we walk or fly or something? Where are we going anyway?" I asked, massaging my knees and trying to brush off the dirt that was now most likely permanently ingrained into my pajama pants. Peter surprised me by tugging on my arm and pulling me to my feet; he was laughing again.

"Sure, come on. I just thought you liked it under there..."

"Oh, but I did!" I rushed to say, not wanting to offend him, but he waved a hand with a grin.

"Rebecca, it's okay. We'll fly," he said, taking my hands and ascending from the leaves of the jungle. Concentrating on getting and then keeping my body airborne, and thinking that I was going to need another sprinkling of pixie dust soon, it hardly registered that Peter was still speaking, though to me or to himself I couldn't be sure. I just know that I snapped to attention when I heard him say, "…and the lava might be flowing today…"

"LAVA!" I screeched, stopping short, having been caught completely off guard by the word. Peter looked back at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. How else would I get enough heat to beat steel into a blade?" he asked me, as if it was the most obvious answer of all in question to making a sword. I had been wondering that myself. While I had a very limited knowledge of making blades, I knew that you were supposed to have a forge and anvil. Where we would get the anvil, I did not know, but good grief, there wouldn't be a forge in Neverland! Though the idea of using lava for heat scared me, I mulled it over carefully as opposed to jumping to fast conclusions and calling it absolutely crazy. And I was soon stumped for any other way of heating up steel to the point of shaping it here. Peter was right. It would have to be lava. Volcanoes. Now _there_ was something I hadn't known about Neverland. Looking back up at the hovering boy, I said, "So, I take it that there's a volcano in Neverland then?" Peter smirked and nodded at me, again showing that he thought it all so obvious.

"It's called Ashwatthama. The Indians named it. Means fiery tempered…something like that," Peter told me. So, that's where we were headed. A volcano with a name that I would never remember. And I couldn't even guess how Peter remembered it, with his notorious way of forgetting things. He pulled me on and soon we had cleared the tops of the trees, with me still trying to get settled with being up in the air again. I searched the mountains of the island, studying them more closely than I ever had before, now that I finally had the chance to do so. There were actually several of them, thin and all dangerously steep and sloping down to the sea. A few were capped with snow and clouds, like white misty halos surrounding the tips. They were a truly breathtaking sight, as is all of Neverland, and I was just smiling at their awesome beauty as I scanned them when my eyes passed and then came right back to one mountain that had a glowing red line traveling down its side.

"Peter, is that…?" I asked, noticing that we were headed towards it.

"Yep, that's Ashwatthama right there," he replied, pointing to the enormous structure leaking liquid fire.

"That's so cool," I whispered to myself, my heart beating quickly in exhilaration as we approached it. Unconsciously I let go of Peter's hand and dove faster towards Ashwatthama, eager to get closer to this newfound wonder. I had once seen volcanoes on vacation in Hawaii, and I had even had the fortune of witnessing flowing lava before, but certainly never like this, with a bird's eye view, and no rules restricting me from getting too close.

"Rebecca! No! Wait!" I heard Peter yell from some distance behind me. I laughed to myself with pride, somehow having gotten the idea that I was flying faster than he could. How wrong I was! I glanced behind me to make fun of him as he caught up with me, only to find that he wasn't there. Confused, I turned back to the volcano and my shoulders rammed into a pair of hands, and then a chest. "Whoa, slow down!" Peter exclaimed, gripping my arms as I began to descend as a result of the surprise from smashing into him. I shook my head to get my mind back together and then I was floating again and looking confusedly at Peter, who actually had a look of panic on his face. "Are you crazy?!" he said, not releasing my arms.

"Wha…what do you mean?" I asked him, completely thrown off and scared now. Why did he look so alarmed?

"I _mean_," Peter started, "what were you thinking flying so fast like that towards it?" he said, cocking his head in indication of the volcano. Now I was really confused.

"Um, because I want to get closer to it," I said with a tone of obviousness. "It's not every day that I get to see a real close up of an active volcano, Peter." I was actually slightly annoyed and trying to twist out of his grip, but he held me firmly in front of him. "Peter, let go! Wha…?" I protested, but he cut me off.

"Rebecca, you can't just go flying right up to it," he said incredulously.

"Why not?" I asked, still attempting resistance to his hold.

"Because it could kill you, of course!" Peter said loudly, and finally he had my full attention.

"Kill you?" I asked, and suddenly reality returned and smacked me across the face.

"YES! Kill you! Didn't you know how dangerous volcanoes are? You could die from the heat and fumes!" He looked into my eyes, perhaps making sure that I understood him and finally let go of my arms once he was confident that I did. I felt extremely stupid right then. Of course volcanoes were extremely dangerous. Anyone with common sense would know that. So why had I so carelessly begun to fly towards it without a single thought to safety? Maybe it was the decreasing oxygen levels again.

"Flying must be affecting my thinking," I said to myself as Peter muttered, "Girls have so little sense!"

"Hey!" I cried in complaint, pushing his shoulder. Peter just shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"There's a spot where it's not so dangerous where we make swords. _That's_ where I was taking you, not directly to the volcano. Come on." Still shaking his head about my lack of sense, the boy took my hand again and pulled me down towards the trees. Now we sped up and I held my right hand over my face as we broke through the treetops, sheltering it from scratching branches. But Peter knew what he was doing in this fast descent and he guided me with his hand, keeping my body close to his and twisting me at interesting angles and shapes through the narrow spaces within the great jungle. I was turned upside down with him, my left hand enfolded in his right hand and resting gently against his chest, pulling me close enough so that I didn't get hit with any greenery. I loved this feeling of swirling through the forestry, almost right against Peter so that I felt safety and exhilaration at the same time, and I just looked up at the circling ground that looked down on us, smiling at the breeze of freedom that encroached our bodies. And just as I started to get nervous because the forest floor was getting too close for comfort, Peter leveled us out so that we were flying parallel to the bottom of the jungle. One second he was at my side, and then he swept beneath me, facing me and still holding my hand so that I wouldn't crash. He smiled up at me and took my other hand, and I watched him in pleasure as he looked up and slipped with me left and right between entangled branches and vines and blinding leaves. I had no idea how he saw where he was going, for there were only little glimpses of light through the countless leaves, but I trusted him and looked up, watching everything zip past me, inches from hitting me but never making contact.

On a whim, I decided to tuck my head into my chest and squeeze my eyes shut, just for more excitement. I heard Peter laugh as I did this, and then the wind current changed and I felt myself twisted in a different way. I opened my eyes. Now I was the one beneath Peter, which scared me for a moment, and I tucked my head in with my eyes clamped shut again. Seconds later, I opened my eyes just long enough to glance up at Peter and observe how his beautiful red hair grazed back against the edges of his green cap that matched the colors of the jungle. He was looking ahead and when he noticed me staring up at him, he looked down at my nervous face, raised his eyebrows, and flew faster yet! I screamed, but I couldn't help spreading my mouth in a toothy smile and looking way up and behind me into the green abyss. Did this jungle never end? I didn't even care. This was awesome! And then Peter had us spinning so that I went over and under and over and under him at the same time as zipping through this narrow maze of nature. I started screaming and laughing, holding the boy's hands tightly.

And then all at once we broke through the edge of the island where the forest finally stopped, and Peter rolled me beneath him again and extended his arms, pushing me out and down. I gave him a confused look, and gazed down to find the sea flowing under my legs. I let my feet drop into the water and suddenly I was creating a nice foaming wake with Peter flying above me, pulling me through the air as my feet dragged against the water. Again, I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, taking in the feeling of the wind sweeping through my hair and clothing, and laughed. It was one of the greatest things I have ever experienced. Once I opened my eyes, tears immediately started streaming down my cheeks from the wind, making my vision blurry, but I still spotted the steam in the not so far away distance. I turned myself so that my side was facing the ocean and I was watching the steam right side up. It seemed to be literally erupting from the bottom of a mountain…the volcano, I realized.

"There it is," Peter happily confirmed. "Where the lava hits the ocean. It's a lot safer there because it's a lot cooler and the fumes aren't so bad when the lava mixes with the ocean," he explained._ That's_ where we make our swords."

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**There will be actual sword-making in the next chapter!! I can't say how long it will be until I update again because I need to do some more research on sword-making, but I'll try for sooner rather than later!! Please keep reviewing (no flames)!! THANK YOU!!  
**


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Rock Hunt

**Hey everyone...remember me? It's been a WHILE, I know. As in almost (or about) a year since my last update. I do have excuses, though. To start with, last summer, my laptop's hard drive crashed, not repairable at all, and I lost everything. I had to get it replaced. That was pretty devastating, and the only reason I still have this story is because I'd published it here on fanfic (THANKGOODNESS). I lost my entire first NANOWRIMO, so that was heartbreaking, but at least I still have this. But I didn't get the new hard drive until late in the summer. And then school started, very little time to write. Then during winter break, well...I was having a lot of personal complications with a break up and my best friend and such drama, and I just didn't feel like writing/editing/posting. Then back to school, which brings us to spring break (now) and I'm dealing with putting my oldest and first dog (Shayna) to sleep tomorrow :'-( She's very sick and it's devastating. I'm going to miss her like crazy. But I decided, this next chapter has been edited for a while, and I might as well post one more new chapter while Shayna is still alive. I'll keep updating, but I have no idea how often. So...that's the story behind the almost year-long delay. SORRYYYY!!!!!!! I hope this chapter is enjoyable. I own nothing but the characters you don't recognize, and all that jazz. Please review? Provides more motivation for updates...and the next chapter is partially written. So, without further adue (Did I spell that right?) here we go...this chapter is dedicated to my dog.**

**Chapter Eighteen: Rock Hunt**

I attempted to squint through the fog to see the other side, but it was too thick. Before I knew it, we were entering it, and my eyes and throat began to burn. I slammed my tearing eyes tightly shut and started to cough, gripping my throat with one hand. Peter must have noticed my discomfort because I felt his grip tighten around my hand and the wind speed increased around us. We were soon through it, where I could breathe at ease again. As I caught my breath and blinked my tears away, I saw Peter out of the corner of my eye wearing a smile that carried an apology. I gave him a half-grin to show that I was okay.

"I should have taken you around it. I forgot that you're not used to it, like I am," he said. He started to pull me down to our left and I looked ahead again to find an expansive field of rocks, varying in size from pebbles to boulders. My eyebrows shot up as we approached and I righted myself into a standing position as we landed, nearly falling as I tried to gain my balance on the rocks.

"Whoa…" I waved my arms as I attempted to straighten my stance upon the stones that moved beneath my feet. "Uh, Peter, why are we here?" Before he answered, something occurred to me. "Do you use these rocks to make swords?"

"Well, yeah, but not just _any_ of these rocks can be used," he chuckled, perhaps at my ignorance. "You have to find the perfect one for you. The rock that's perfect for you won't be perfect for anyone else," he explained. So…I had to find a rock for myself? What a search!

"In that case…how do I know which one is, uh, _the_ one? The one rock of power, the one rock to rule them all?" I joked, though not surprisingly he didn't catch my reference to _The Lord of the Rings_. Peter just gave me a weird look for a moment, then looked away shaking his head slightly, probably thinking again that girls are weird.

"You just kinda know," he said simply. That didn't really narrow down my search at all.

"Well, how did you know with your dagger?" I asked. Without meaning to, I stopped him short with my question. He was a few paces ahead of me, going towards what I did not yet know, and he slowly turned around and looked me in the eyes. His mouth was set in a line and his eyes became round with a deep warmth of some sort that I could not identify. Something had come over him. I hadn't the faintest clue as to what, but I saw something in his eyes that left a question of mystery lightly bouncing around in my mind. What did his expression mean? Something about his past?

"I just knew," he said softly. His eyes lingered on mine as he paused a moment longer, a moment that I didn't dare to fill with another question. Then his eyes trailed away and he took to walking forward again. I stayed put for a moment myself, the question still bouncing until I caught it and tucked it away for the time being, and then followed suit. I watched him pick up a random stone, a tad smaller than a kickball, and he turned back to face me. "Pick one up," he said. I hesitated. "Go on, just pick up a rock," he instructed again. "Don't worry, they don't bight." I snorted at the joke and bent down to choose a stone. I wrapped my hands around one that was a little smaller than the one Peter was holding, but it was surprisingly heavy. I lifted it up and looked at Peter again, waiting for further instruction. "Well?" he asked.

"Well what?" I returned flatly, perplexed. He rolled his eyes.

"Well, how does it feel? Hold it in each hand, toss it back and forth. Does it fit your fingers snugly? Is it comfortable?" 'Comfortable? What the heck is he talking about?' I wondered, but followed his instructions, tossing it back and forth with difficulty due to its weight, and feeling how it fit (actually, didn't fit) into my hands. Peter watched me the whole time. I looked back at him and shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what answer he was looking for. "Yep, I didn't think so. Definitely not," he said, turning his gaze to the hundreds of thousands of surrounding rocks.

"What do you mean you didn't think so? Peter, I'm so confused," I said, a little frustrated with the lack of answers to my questions.

"It doesn't fit you," he said like it should have been obvious to me. "It's not right for you." When I continued to stare at him with a look of exasperated confusion from not knowing the first thing about what he was talking about, Peter tossed the rock he still held, threw back his head, and laughed loudly. I huffed and waited until he was done laughing, apparently at my expense. When his laughter trailed off a little, he noticed the look of annoyance that masked my face, and said, "Rebecca, your confusion is just so funny!" He laughed again and I began to tap my foot loudly.

"There wouldn't _be_ any confusion if you'd just explain to me what's going on," I muttered. Peter's laughter filtered down to chuckles and he looked at me again. "I can't really explain it. You just know."

"Peter! Just know what?" I nearly shouted in frustration, but he held up a hand.

"Rebecca, trust me. You'll know." He turned away again, and continued to walk, leaving my thoughts to scramble themselves into eggs. I took a breath and followed him, abandoning hope of a better explanation of what I was supposed to be looking for. "Pick up another one and see what you think," he called over his shoulder. I sighed to myself, glancing around my feet, and picked up a rock that was a little bigger than the previous one. Bigger, but lighter, and I wondered what materials were within the rock that made it so. I didn't bother to ask Peter; I doubted he knew much about geology and elements, but I couldn't help wishing that I had memorized more from my geology class instead of just forgetting it all after the final exam. Then again, I had never been a science person. I studied for the tests and then forgot the material and moved on to more literature and writing, and arts that I loved. Just then I nearly dropped the rock, finding that it was quite difficult to keep a grip on it. "That one's wrong too!" Peter called back to me, not even turning around.

"Wha…?" I started to ask, and then decided against it. This one was wrong too, huh? I tossed it aside.

"Don't give up, just keep searching and trying out new ones," Peter said, perhaps noticing my frustration. I shook my head and continued on, this time not picking up any rocks surrounding my feet. I followed Peter at first, and picked up several small rocks along the way, all of which he said were wrong for me (for whatever reasons I could not deduce) and I tossed them aside one by one. After a little while of this, I trailed off to the right on my own, away from Peter, though I was headed in no particular direction. My foot caught on a rock that had begun to roll away and I tripped, my hands waiting in front of me for the coming collision. "You okay?" Peter called after hearing my hands slap the rocks beneath me.

"Mmph," I groaned, rubbing my hands together to sooth them and looking back at the rock that had caused me to trip. It was a jagged rock, dark, almost black, speckled with spots that shone gold and silver in the sun. It was rather pretty. I went to pick it up, ignoring Peter's call to me not to do so. As I lifted it, I swear I felt a slight tremble in it, almost like it was trying to escape, and as I held it in complete shock, it began to heat up. "What the?" I said in complete surprise. Was something living inside of it? I looked at the bottom to make sure that I wasn't holding the home of some sort of crab, but it was solid at the way around. As I turned it, studying it and feeling it grow warmer by the second, I heard Peter's fast-approaching steps.

"Rebecca, put that down," he said.

"But…but why?" I asked, completely naïve.

"Just put it down," he repeated. I continued to stand there stubbornly, holding the heating rock and looking back and forth between it and Peter. "Drop it!" he said again, more urgently. I was about to ask him why again when the rock suddenly grew hot, and I jumped with a gasp. At that, Peter came forward and quickly knocked the stone from my hands just as it was beginning to scorch my fingers. Shaking my hands to cool my skin, I watched with wide eyes as the rock somersaulted through the air and hit the ground. It didn't break, but there was a single loud crack and smoke began to rise, seemingly from within it. Peter grabbed my hand, blowing on his own fingers which had touched it, and pulled me away before I could watch it any further. "Why didn't you drop it like I said?" Peter asked me, annoyed and shaking his head. Now, my confusion was still present, but also mixed with having a better idea of what was going on.

"I take it that rock was wrong for me too?" I asked. Peter shot me a look that said I was pretty stupid if I couldn't figure that out.

"Um, _yes_, that rock was wrong for you!" he exclaimed. Under his current gaze, I felt quite judged, and I looked the other way, my cheeks flushing heat.

"Sorry," I said softly.

"Well, didn't you notice how it was reacting to you? It didn't like you! It hated you, wasn't going to work with you at all!" Peter told me.

"What do you mean it hated me? I don't understand this…am I looking to make some sort of a connection with a random rock?" I asked, still considering the idea insane, except that what had just happened proved it to be apparently possible…or at least possible for a rock to 'hate' me.

"Yeah, basically that's it. I mean, it's gotta feel right to you and you've gotta feel right to it," Peter said. It was perhaps the best explanation he had given me thus far, even if it did sound crazy. Then again, fairies exist, so who says that rocks can't…well, feel in a way? With this in mind, I nodded, much better aware of what I was looking for.

"Should I have a specific size of rock in mind?" I asked, already starting to look around me again."

"You can if you want, but you'll know it's right when you find it," Peter said for what felt like the tenth time. But it was the first time that I really trusted his words and better understood what he meant. Now that I thought about it, remembering the questions he had asked me about the rocks feeling comfortable in my hands, that last rock had felt the opposite. When I had picked it up, it was uncomfortably, almost painfully spiky against my skin, and my fingers hadn't really fit into its natural crevices. I looked at my hands and saw that they had small red spots all over the palms. Yep, that had definitely been the wrong rock, no questions asked.

I looked anxiously at Peter with my palms raised, but when he saw them he just waved the matter away and said that the spots would soon disappear. He also said that if I had held that rock any longer, it could have burnt holes in my hands. I gulped at that. If something similar happened again, I resolved to drop the rock immediately. Peter was walking away ahead of me again, and this time I ran uphill, passing him and causing him to race me and snicker. Soon he was far above me. I had wanted to get a better view of the rocky slope, and once I reached a reasonably high point, I turned around and looked in the direction of the sea, scanning the stony ravine and wondering where to look next. How was I supposed to find one special rock out of all of these lying in front of me, to my sides, beneath me, behind me…

"How long is this going to take?" I said to myself.

"As long as it has to!" Peter yelled down to me from his much higher stance. How he heard me talking to myself, especially with my back turned to him, I'll never know. I was to quickly learn in the future that he had exceptionally good ears, as he had told me the night before, and my they would come in handy in what was to happen on the island. I turned around to locate him and found him perched on a ledge a good 20 to 30 feet above me…or something like that. I was never good at estimating figures, but he looked a fairly far distance away. I estimated based on the indoor rock climbing walls back in the gym, which were 20 to 30 feet in themselves. He shrugged and smiled at me.

"Oh boy…" I muttered low enough to be out of earshot, even of Peter. Again, I looked at the vast expanse of 'feeling' rocks around me, and picked one up by my feet just for the heck of it. Somehow I got an odd sensation inside my right ear and in my throat, like a dull burning, but I quickly took that as a no and tossed the rock. This one did not smoke, but rolled a little ways away from me and I wondered how much of a mind of its own it had. It was becoming clear to me that all of the rocks in this quarry had minds of their own in a very strange way. I took a deep breath, attempting to suppress the nervousness bubbling from the overwhelming chance of finding one single 'right' rock on this place. With careful footing, I stepped backwards to my right, still just observing the view in front of me, which was quite beautiful.

There was the island and the extension of forest to my right, with the edge dissolving into the ocean and the waves taking the trillions of grains of sand back and forth. Then the steam from the running lava plumed into a rounded cloud so that it looked like a large, gray circular patch against the sapphire sea. And to my left, more mountains and volcanoes that climbed out of the surf, which seemed to extend forever into the glowing horizon. Fascinated and awed by the horizon's mystery, I found myself walking off to my left, headed roughly in the direction of the feet of the mountains. I didn't know why, but I felt like I was being drawn that way somehow, and I was suddenly more comfortable climbing over the rocks, not stumbling as much now, and liking the feeling of heading somewhere more specific. I was just entranced by the site before me and I felt the urge to pursue it. I just hoped that Peter wouldn't stop me to bring me back to my frustrating rock hunt.

As I came closer to the corner where the last mountain kissed the sea, though it was still far away, I felt a warmth pooling in my stomach. It was quite comfortable, and I rather enjoyed it; a smile tugged at my lips and they expanded. I began to run. It hardly occurred to me to be careful about running over the quarry, so I suppose it must have been the tugging feeling, like something wanted me to run and get there faster, that kept me from slipping, because I didn't fall even once. I leapt over larger rocks and twisted my feet among the smaller ones to keep my speed and balance, and I actually found myself increasing speed. I ran faster, swinging my arms by my sides, now headed directly towards the foot of the last mountain. It was still quite far, and that's when I felt another hand take hold of my right hand and pull me up. I was feeling very happy, so I had no trouble lifting into the air.

"Where is it?" the boy asked me with a knowing smile. I look confused for a moment, but felt even more of that tugging feeling, and I smiled, suddenly clued into what was happening.

"There," I said softly, and pointed to the foot of the last mountain.

"Let's go, then," Peter said, and we were off, flying quite fast. But just as we shot forward, the tugging feeling decreased, and I lost some of the urgency to get there.

"Wait, Peter!" I said loudly against the sudden wind, and tugged back on my hand. He looked back at me, confused. "I'm losing it," I said, assuming that he would know what I meant, and then stifled a giggle as I thought, 'I really am losing it, losing my sense of sanity. I'm being pulled to a rock!' "I want to go back down to the rocks," I said, hoping that he would understand. I was still tugging against his hand, and he let me go, shrugging. I descended, landing less than gracefully, but right side up nevertheless. I looked back to my destination, and the strong tugging was back. I took one step forward, and the tugging increased. I grinned, and broke off into a run again. It would take me a little while to get there, but maybe the rock that I was apparently pursuing wanted me to get to it by myself, and without the help of flying. Maybe I was somehow earning my right to it more by doing so. These were the thoughts that skipped about in my mind as I shortened the distance.

I was startled to notice that I was running faster than I thought I was capable of doing. In fact, I almost felt like I was flying on my feet, though they were still touching ground with each step. But it was as if I was running along some sort of path carved by a force that was lifting my legs and feet fast and high. Like I was running on hands that were passing me along as fast as they could. 'If only I could race my brother right now,' I thought to myself with a grin. He ran both track and cross country in high school, and was a star runner there, but I knew that I was running faster than he ever had.

With my mind racing against my feet, I hardly noticed as suddenly the distance was drawing quickly to a close. There wasn't much farther to go; all I had to do now was run along the rocky bank at the bottom of that last mountain to get to the very outside corner of the island. I became slightly nervous about running straight across the wet stones that were slicked with the sea, but that was where I felt tugged to, and so much so now that I doubted I would be able to stop if I tried. But the tugging also kept me safe, and my feet seemed to barely skim along the surfaces of the slippery rocks. I was rounding the last bend.

And then I saw it. I knew it was my rock the moment I laid eyes on it. I saw the shining surface of it glinting in the sun, somehow rising above the waves although it was several feet out into the sea. But not a single wave conquered its top. The light upon it flashed brightly, as if it was winking at me, calling me to it. And I went as fast as I could. Once I reached the very edge of the island, I lifted into the air without any hesitation and flew just over the water, reaching out to my rock with open anxious hands. The moment before I was directly over it, I dipped my fingers into the sea and smiled excitedly as I felt my rock seem to rise from the ocean and slip right into my hands. My fingers instantly found a perfect fit within its comfortable crevices, which somehow felt rather soft beneath my skin and seemed to hug my hands all around. I moved it about, turning it around, tossing it between my hands, testing it out for fun, and the entire rock seemed to be molded exactly to fit my fingers no matter which way I held it. It was about the size of a basketball, slightly smaller, and was heavy enough for me to grip it properly, but light enough for me to hold it very comfortably without feeling weighed down. I sat in the air, hugging it to my chest, noting that a sort of feeling of attachment to it had replaced the tugging urge. It was mine and I belonged to it in turn.

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**Perhaps this chapter seems incomplete, but it was actually part of the next chapter, and I cut them in half due to length. PLEASE REVIEW AND NO FLAMES!!!**


	19. Chapter 19: Sword Morphing

**Hello everyone! I'M BACK!!! Phew, school's done (YAAAAAAY!!!!!), I've had some gooooood resting time, and I leave for a 2-month study abroad trip to Scotland next week!!!! WOOOO!!!! Okay, sorry for not updating in a while (especially sorry to Alexandra, who has left me FIVE reviews begging for an update!). There were looong papers and portfolios and an exam...you all know the deal. And then I went on a road trip and then got lazy. Yeah...So, anyway, this chapter is dedicated to Alexandra, because her consistent reviews are really what got me to edit this chapter and put it up! I didn't want to keep disappointing her, and I hope I won't with this chapter. Thank you Alexandra, your support means a lot to me! I will try to update more often! :-)**

**Disclaimer: J.M. Barrie owns Peter Pan.  
**

**Chapter Nineteen: Sword Morphing**

"You found your rock, I see," Peter said, suddenly beside me. I grinned at him with a sense of victory, having found what was rightfully mine.

"Yes, this is definitely it," I told him with finality.

"Then it's time to make your sword," he replied with a wicked grin. I looked at my rock, which seemed to be trembling with anticipation in my hands; I could feel and recognized the energy it sent flowing into me.

"You're going to be my blade," I said to it, not feeling in the least bit silly talking to a rock. Peter left my side and turned back to the gray patch of lava steam, and I followed suit, clutching my rock, which was jumping with energy in my hands, causing me to laugh. I didn't notice the minutes pass en route to the lava, distracted by my rock's energy tickling my fingers, right up to my shoulders. Which meant that I nearly knocked into Peter when he slowed down. Actually, I flew right over his head, as he ducked out of the way, and I had to turn around and come back. He was laughing at me when I landed next to him. I was trying not to tear up again from the lava steam. Even with it cooling into the ocean, it smelled (and felt to my eyes) quite toxic. Far worse than any onions or regular bonfire smoke.

"You get used to it," Peter told me, as tears defied my efforts and spurted into the world. Then he turned around and started to search for something.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, agitatedly wiping my cheeks against my shoulders.

"A rock," he said.

"Again?" There was no disguising the annoyance in my voice, as I did _not_ wanting to start another rock search.

"Yeah, but not the same kind. There's a hiding place…" his voice trailed off.

"A hiding place? What kind? For what?"

"Just a minute," he said shortly and held up a hand. He evidently was losing patience for questions. Peter scanned the rocks close to us and then hovered in the air, studying them closely. His left hand rested on a bent knee while his right hand scratched his head. 'His position of concentration,' I thought to myself and laughed inwardly. "Where is it…?" he whispered to no one. I was helpless and my insides were dancing with anticipation for making my sword. My foot tapped, but Peter didn't notice. And then…"Ah HAH!" The boy threw aside a bunch of medium-sized rocks to reveal a long rock that was in the shape of a rolled piece of clay, which he dragged back. "Hid it really well last time," he muttered. I walked over and looked closer at what now appeared to be the strangest looking rock I'd ever seen. It looked just like a loaf of bread—rounded at either side, with a small groove going along the middle. Peter then retrieved some sort of a hammer tool, as well as a leather pouch the size of a tennis ball. Peter lifted the hammer thing and I got a closer look. It was made from a bundle of large bamboo rods woven tightly together with thick vines. At one end was a large flat rock, strapped by leather that fit into small grooves along the rock's face and sides. The middle of the rock was exposed and scratched, very flat. Peter handed this to me, and as I struggled to hold it in one arm, I found that it was surprisingly light--at least light enough for me to hold it up without too much difficulty. I looked back at Peter to find him dragging the long rock towards the lava flow, with the leather pouch in one of his hands.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"You'll see," he grunted. He laid the long rock with its groove facing the sky, while one end reached the tip of the bank along the lava. "Give that to me," Peter said, startling me.

"Huh? Oh…"I handed over the hammer tool, but he shook his head.

"No, your rock." I had the strangest hesitation to part with it, and I handed it over with my hand curled in protection around it and caution written on my face. "Don't worry, you'll get it back!" Peter laughed, making me blush. I was being silly. It was a _rock_ for goodness sake! But my eyes refused to wander from it as Peter got to work. He put it in the middle of the groove of the long rock and then asked for the hammer tool. He handed me the leather bag to hold, which I found to be filled with a glowing substance that was more delicate than dirt or fine sand or even clay. I looked inside and saw something glittering. Pixie dust, I realized. I heard a sliding noise and looked up again to see Peter using the hammer to push my rock towards the lava.

"Hey!" I cried and rush to stop him from pushing it in, but he put out his arm and held me back.

"Just trust me, already! Have I let you down yet?" he said in annoyance.

"No," I muttered, and forced myself to succumb to letting him do whatever he needed to do. I stepped back. Peter turned back to his work and pushed my rock to the end of the long rock, so that the tip of one side of my rock was directly in the heat of the lava. That's when, as if things that day couldn't have gotten more peculiar, I saw the side of my rock…shimmer. Like water was reflecting on it, except brighter. I gasped and watched in amazement as Peter used the edge of the flat rock to roll my rock backwards and then forwards again, exposing a different side and getting the same effect. He did this a few times at a quick pace and then rolled my rock back to the middle of the groove of the long rock. Most of my rock was shimmering now, but not as brightly as when first exposed to the lava's heat. Then Peter raised the hammer and struck my rock with the flat area. I flinched and gritted my teeth. My rock was now flat on top. Peter struck it again, causing me to whistle in breath through my teeth. Was he hurting my rock? More flatness resulted…and then I noticed my rock begin to expand along the groove of the long rock. My jaw dropped open, and I watched in fascination as Peter continued to strike it.

"You…" _slam_…"don't…" _slam_ (flinch)…"want the whole thing…" _slam_…"shimmering…" _bang_ (flinch)…"or it becomes…" _slam_…"too…" _bang_…"soft," he groaned out between strikes. "You still need some…" _bang_…"hard rock…" _slam_…"in there." He looked up for a moment, breaking from his striking. "Want to try?" he huffed in a pant. I quickly nodded and took the hammer from him. "Try to hit it with the flat part of the hammer. Otherwise your sword could get a dent in it," he said, as I raised the hammer. My first strike was a little off, hitting to the side of my rock and pushing it out instead of forward along the groove of the long rock. I looked at Peter worriedly, but he just told me to strike the side of it back into place. I did, my aim a little better the second time. I proceeded to hammer the top of my rock, watching it spread into the groove on the long rock supporting it. I realized that the groove was formed in the shape of a sword, pointed at the tip, about a foot below the end of the long rock. The groove continued back, past me, with even depths once it had descended from the sharp-looking tip. After a few feet, it squared off into a neck that was more rounded than the rest of the groove and several inches, which I assumed served as the hilt. Under Peter's guidance I hammered my rock into something of a sword, watching my glowing stone sink snuggly into the groove. "Stop," Peter told me within some minutes. "That's long enough for you." My rock-sword hadn't yet reached the part of the groove that looked like the hilt, but it was a good length of perhaps a couple of feet. I supposed that Peter had made enough swords and various blades that he knew a suitable length for me without having to take measurements.

"Okay," I said, withdrawing the hammer and about to lay it down, not sure what else to do with it.

"Oh, you still need that," Peter said, kneeling forward toward my almost-made sword. "Give it to me." I handed it over and watched him again use a corner edge of it to drag back my rock-sword by the chunk of un-hammered rock left at the end facing us. He pulled the chunk onto the hilt-end of the groove and then handed back the hammer. "Just lay it down somewhere."

"But I thought you said I still need it," I protested.

"You will in a minute. But first, this," he explained, and I watched him quickly float through the air back to the ditch where he had retrieved the other tools. This time he brought out another hammer-like tool, the same as the first, except that the rectangular stone on its top was small and arched, like a tiny half-pipe. "I forgot this one," he said as he passed my side again. "Watch." And he took the arched hammer and pressed it down over the last hunk of rock, pushing it into the hilt of the groove. "Here," he said, handing me the bamboo stick supporting the stone arc hammer. Suddenly, Peter's arms were around me, startling me. His hands enclosed mine in a firm hold and his head hovered over my left shoulder. I turned my eyes to look at him, craning my neck back a little so as not to be too close. My eyes were wide in surprise at this out-of-the-blue close position, but the boy looked back at me innocently and smiled, and then returned his eyes to the job at hand. I studied his face for the next few seconds in fascination, observing that he was completely innocent to how close we were huddled, certainly within distance of…I closed my eyes and shook my head to rid myself of further thoughts. I didn't want that with this boy who would never grow up. 'I shouldn't be thinking about it when he clearly didn't even notice anything. Not to mention that I had a boyfriend back home anyway. At the thought of him, I felt a twinge of homesickness, but only for a moment. I was in too amazing a place to feel those sorts of things. Forget them all. I was in Neverland for a reason.

I felt Peter tilt my body towards my shaping rock, and then we were sort of standing in a lunge together, front knees bent, back legs extended. We pressed the arc down hard against my rock, and when we lifted it, I was pleasantly amazed to see that the rock was very nearly a sword. The sides of the arc had fit into the groove's hilt, and around my rock so that it was now rounded and shaped into a handle. The rest of it was indeed in the shape of a proper sword. I understand even more now the magic of the connection I had with my rock and its morphing, because it had adjusted itself within the long groove into a sword that would be perfect for me, in size, in weight, and soon in appearance without the extra pounding and careful shaping that one would expect for the job of sword-making. But that understanding came later. For the moment, I was content to stare and smile at it, until I felt the warm of Peter's arms and torso leave me. I wanted to smack myself for acknowledging disappointment when Peter disappeared from behind me. Maybe it really was true that all girls who visited Neverland got a crush on him; maybe I was just another victim of his charms. My thoughts groaned at me to stop this nonsense, refusing to admit any attraction. And then he was at my right side holding a thin smoothed, rounded stick that was pointy on both ends.

He laid this into the middle of my blade, between the hilt and the point, and briefly pressed it into the stone, which it sunk into like mud. Then Peter took care to use the half of the stick not submerged to lift it out again, and I saw that it had left a very thin delicate groove in my sword's blade. He handed the stick over to me and picked up the leather pouch of pixie dust, which he had set down some feet behind us. Peter scooped up a bit of the magic dust and sprinkled it over the whole of the sword, like one might sprinkle flour over dough. Then at the boy's instructions, I picked up and handed over the flat hammer and he started just under the hilt and ran an edge of the hammer over the rested of the sword. This brought about a small wake of pixie dust, the remainder of which seemed to settle into the stone, though still sparkling. He did the same thing to the hilt, only this time using the arced hammer edge to keep the roundness of the hilt. After tapping his foot for part of a minute, during which I thought the stone and dust must be settling into place, Peter gingerly lifted the edge of the hilt and the whole sword followed it. He turned it with speed and grace to the other side of the blade, and laid it down again. Peter repeated the process with the stick making the thin groove in the other side of the blade, and then with the pixie dust and the two hammers settling the dust into the sword. My sword.

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**OKAY! So many events in this story to come, but not sure how to get to them from here...I'll figure it out. Please keep the reviews coming, and no flames!! Thank you!!**


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